#28 when his right arms caught in an explosion and his left hand cut off

[alitteraladhdmess]

Artificial

Decided to make my official design for Night Eyes Donatello

Cw: lots of blood, 3rd degree burns

@tmntaucompetition

[petri808]

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30-Epilogue

*TW: cutting, therapy, break down. a little longer then usual at 2500 words

The therapist greeted the couple as they walked in and sat down on the couch. “Thank you for allowing Natsu to sit in today, Lucy. I don’t want you to think of this as a couples counseling per se, because you’re still my primary client. But I feel that him being here to understand your struggles, as well as his, and being able to express them in a safe environment, will help in your healing process. And thank you Natsu for agreeing to this.”

He sat forward a bit, ready to engage. “Anything to help Lucy.”

“I’d like to start with your homework Lucy, has there been any progress in trying to write out your feelings? Remember, it’s okay if you’re still struggling with that, there’s no judgment here.”

“Not... really...” Lucy fidgeted with the hem of her sweatshirt. “Every time I try to, I-I get too... I start to cry, and the panic rises— I fail at it every single damn time and that makes me feel even worse.”

“You’re not failing. Let’s reword that to struggling and recognize that simply making an attempt is the first step, a very important one to be proud of.”

“Maybe I was just kidding myself all along about writing. Maybe it’s because I wasn’t any good in the first place. It was all in my head.” Lucy could see the frown on Natsu’s face from her words, but that’s how she feels now. There was a time she thought she was a decent writer, maybe not publishing quality yet, but she truly enjoyed it regardless and now, a blank page is all she could muster.

“Natsu,” the therapist directs her question to the man. “It seems you’re unhappy with her statement. Would you say that Lucy’s a good writer? Honest answer.”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, “I mean I’m no expert, but the stuff I’ve seen is pretty good. I definitely couldn’t pull them off.”

“Lucy would you call Natsu a liar?”

The blonde paused, annoyed and offended. She wanted to say yes, only because she didn’t want to agree, but then it wouldn’t be true. Natsu was giving his honest opinion and she couldn’t deny it. “No,” Lucy breathed out. “Look I get it. You’re trying to tell me it’s all in my head, right? It’s just the pain talking, and I’ll get better, and I’ll get back into writing just like before.” Anger had slowly begun to prickle the hairs on the back of her neck the longer she clung to the dissociation. “I-I’m not an idiot! I know this is all stupid shit in my brain! I just can’t stop it!”

“I’m sorry, I pushed you too hard, let’s go back a step here. No one is saying you’re an idiot. On the contrary, you’re very intelligent. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be recognizing that it’s all in your head, and that recognition is how the healing starts. My role, today with Natsu’s help, is to bring that to the forefront. Bring it out into the open, because sometimes hearing it out loud has a different effect on how we process the information.”

“I don’t get it...”

The woman sat back in her chair in thought for a brief second. “When we think about things just in our head, versus saying it out loud, it triggers different parts of our brain. What studies have found is that talking out loud stimulates... rational... erm, reality I guess is a better term. It becomes more real to us.”

“Huh.” So, what, Lucy rolled her eyes at the suggestion. True or not, she didn’t want to agree, because her mind was still in such a strong state of denial. “I still don’t accept it. It sounds stupid.” Maybe it was just her annoyance talking, but the therapist was getting on her nerves. Lucy knew the woman was just trying to help, but her irrational side didn’t want to deal with any of this. The pain sucked, but so did the treatment. She just wanted to stay in her room, in the dark, away from prying eyes. Surprisingly to Lucy, the therapist didn’t even flinch and the gleam in the woman’s eyes almost looked sadistic in that moment.

“Lucy, I know you know it’s not stupid. That’s just your mind imagining the wrong things, which is why you need to talk about it out loud, so you can hear yourself and how wrong it all sounds.”

Ugh! She was so tired of being told what she is, what she should be thinking, and the condescending tone she wrongly assumed from the therapist triggered an explosion. All the anger she felt about herself was transferred to the therapist in an instant. “I’m wrong?!” Lucy jumped to her feet, her anger crackling through. “No shit! Lady, I’m fucked up!! You want me to talk? Fine! I hate this! I hate everything! It’s all falling the fuck apart and I feel like I’ve been tied to the damn train tracks! Everything I’ve worked so hard for is slipping away! Three years of college being washed down the drain! How the fuck do I catch up now?! I’m so behind! AARRRGHH!!! I-I don’t even wanna get out of bed anymore! I hate myself— hate what I’ve become a-and that makes me even more fucking depressed! And my friends...” Lucy dropped back onto the couch as her shaking hands flew up to cover her face and the dam of tears finally broke loose in a cascade down her cheeks. She cried long, and deep for several minutes, chest heaving and inconsolable.

In that moment, Natsu sat frozen, his eyes swinging back and forth to the therapist and his girlfriend unsure of what to do. Should he move to comfort Lucy? The therapists inaction seemed to suggest the answer was no. It made him furious, yet... she was the professional... before he could make a decision, Lucy finally uncovered her face and look dead at her therapist. Almost forgetting him all together.

“My friends, seeing the looks on their faces...” Lucy dug her fingers into the fabric of her pants in an effort to ground her unraveling mind. “It hurts so fucking much! I must be getting on Levy’s nerves, she didn’t sign up to be my nurse, a-and Natsu, he’ll surely get tired of a basket-case of a girlfriend. I can’t blame him if he left me, I’d leave me too. It’s all just falling apart—” Her chest heaved in a heavy sigh. “I can’t see a way out anymore.”

Seeing the whites of Lucy’s knuckles the harder she clenched onto her leg and seeing the heavy breathing similar to that night in the ambulance. Natsu feared that Lucy was heading towards a panic attack. Wanting to reassure her, Natsu reacted this time and reached up from his seat, quickly grabbing her arm to gain her attention. “Lucy, I’m not—.”

But Lucy screamed and yanked her arm back, face grimacing in pain. “Tsss—Owww!!”

“leavi—” Natsu pulled back immediately. “Oh, shit! I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to! Did I grab you too hard?!” He didn’t think so, but based on her reaction, maybe he had.

“N-No,” she cradled her arm, turning to shield it from him. “You didn’t, I’m fine, it just caught me by surprise.” Lucy quickly brushed it off for fear of requiring an explanation. “Really. S-Sorry, I-I’m probably just too flustered.”

But that explanation didn’t satisfy Natsu. Lucy’s yelp was clearly pain related if buttressed by the fact she continued to hide it. “You’re lying to me,” he reached out, “I’m not mad, just please tell me the truth because it’s obvious there’s something wrong with your arm.”

“N-No, I’m not,” she tried to act like it was true. “See,” she waved it as if showing it was fine. “Nothing’s wrong...” till she accidentally hit it again and flinched, biting her lip just in time to stifle a scream. But she knew in an instant that she’d been caught.

His eyes and tone softened in an effort to lower her inhibitions. “Yes, there is.” Natsu took her arm and started to pull up on the sleeve of her sweater.

Lucy instinctively turned her head away. She didn’t want to see his reaction to the bandage around her arm. Even when he continued to speak, questioned what was underneath it, she answered in one worded responses without looking. But at his gasping sound, her eyes closed in shame. She could see what he saw all from behind her eyelids, all the horizontal cuts running across her left arm. The red, angry lines in varying stages of healing. She kept most of it grouped around the middle of her arm between the wrist and elbow crook. At first, she’d tried what that EMT had done, merely jabbing her arm with a pen or digging her nails into the skin. But it wasn’t enough, so she’d moved onto cutting. It had started out small, just a couple of lines were enough to silence the horrid voices in her head, but like a junky’s tolerance, Lucy had to keep cutting, more and more, deeper, just to feel the same numbing results.

“Is this what I think it is?” Natsu’s shaky voice questioned with moisture filling his eyes. “Oh, Lucy, why didn’t you tell me it was this bad.” Now he knew why she’d started wearing long sleeves even when the weather was warm.

“I’m sorry... I didn’t want anyone to know... but it was the only thing making the voices stop.”

Without another word, Natsu pulled a surprised Lucy into a tight hug, tears of his own spilling. “No, I’m sorry, it’s my fault this is happening to you. I should have dealt with Touka long ago. I should have protected you better. This is on me, but Lucy I’m never gonna let you go, I won’t ever leave you because of this. We’re gonna get through this together. I swear on my life, we’re gonna get through this together. Do you believe me?? Please, tell me you believe me?”

“I do...” she did. The man wore his heart on his sleeve. It was a trait Lucy found most endearing, so how could her heart not accept his words? They sat there in an embrace while time stood still, and a small measure of relief fell over her. It wasn’t much, but it was a glimmer of hope, an ember, and one she hadn’t felt in a long time. This man who’d caged her on that train and captured her heart, she could easily pin all of her pain onto him, but he could also be her salvation. His strong arms wrapped around her broken frame made the scary world fall away, to remind her how much more she yearned to stay within it.

Once he felt Lucy’s body relax, Natsu pulled back, wiping away her tears as well as his own. “Is this the only area?” He gestured at her arm without judgment. And when she nodded, he let out a sigh of relief.

Now that the moment was waning, the therapist who’d been waiting patiently and observing spoke up. She offered the anxiety medications again to Lucy and with Natsu’s gentle coaxing, the blonde finally agreed to it. It couldn’t hurt right? If they didn’t work, she’ll just stop taking them. She didn’t want to see the anguish in Natsu’s eyes anymore, especially now that she realized how much he was internalizing and struggling alone with. He was in just as much pain as she was, so it was time they both do what they could to heal, together.

As they were about to leave, Natsu paused and questioned the doctor. “I have a question. I just realized, even though today was a big episode... Lucy didn’t have a panic attack. Why is that?”

The blonde looked at her boyfriend before her eyes landed on the therapist with an expectancy of an answer. She hadn’t realized that either. Shouldn’t her outburst have triggered one?

“I’m glad you asked,” the woman smiled. “Panic attacks are often triggered by suppression. When you’re trying to hold in your emotions, refusing to let it go, and not show it, but today Lucy let it out. She didn’t hold back so there was no need for her body to react physiologically.” She reached out and placed a gentle hand on Lucy’s shoulder. “Sometimes a good cry and scream goes a long way. Please remember that.”

It was quiet on the taxi ride back to Lucy’s apartment. Not an uncomfortable silence, but maybe just enough had been said in the hour long therapy session that they both still needed time to process it all. Despite her breakthrough, she knew it was still a long battle ahead. The poor coping skills she’d latched onto now needed to be reversed, and frankly she didn’t know if she could do it alone. Of course, she could ask Levy... and the woman did deserve to hear the truth going on... but Lucy really didn’t want to put that kind of pressure on her best friend. Levy had done so much for her already and as much as she appreciated it, it also contributed to her emotional pain. She glanced down at her hand held so tightly by Natsu and wondered... no... The man was struggling as well, so to add hers into his mix, is that really fair? But by that same token, their pain was also a shared one. If there was anything to take away from the session is that perhaps it is together, they’ll better find the end of the rainbow.

Once they arrive at the building and get out of the taxi, Natsu started walking towards it. Lucy tugged back to stop him. “Lucy?”

“Before we go in...” her voice lowers, hesitancy brimming in her tone. “I have a question to ask.”

“Of course, anything.”

“I can’t—, don’t want to do this alone anymore. But I also don’t want to put that kind of burden on Levy.”

“Lucy,” he pulled her hand up, clasped between his palms to his lips where he kissed the fingers gently. “I will do whatever you need me to do.”

She sighed. “Can I move in with you? A-At least until I get control of the panic attacks and the... the thing?” Her eyes flit to her arm rather than say the words aloud. “I know this would intrude on Gray, but I would feel much safer.”

Natsu paused for a second in thought. “I don’t think Gray will mind. I certainly don’t.” He smiled. “We’ll be there for each other.”

“Are you sure? Because there’s still a few things I haven’t mentioned like nightmares. I-I don’t wanna freak you guys out.”

“A promise is a promise, and when I said I’ll do anything, I meant it. Will it be scary, probably, I’m not gonna lie, but I’m willing to do whatever I need to get us through this.”

Lucy’s eyes gloss over, but a tiny smile ticks up at the corners of her lips. “Thank you, Natsu.”

He smiled back, “I’m the one who should be thankful.”

“For what?”

“For not dumping me. As much you’d worried, I’d leave you, I was deathly afraid you’d leave me. I brought this on us, so I wouldn’t blame you from running away.”

“Oh, Natsu.” This time a true smile finally graced Lucy’s face. “I’m not going anywhere either.”

[comicgeekscomicgeek]

Their Hero Academia – Chapter 28: Class 1-A and the Sports Festival: Part 1

The raw and unedited next chapter of my on-going, next-gen, My Hero Academia fic! The rest of the fic (and a side series) can be found here 

“Gooooood morning, Japan!  This is Present Mic, your host with the most, coming at you live from this year’s U.A. Sport’s Festival First Year Stage! As always, I’m joined by Pro-Hero and Class 1-A Homeroom teacher, Eraserhead!  Say hello to the people, Eraser!”

“How do I always get talked into this?”

“Midnight says she had it written into your contract!”

“Hn.”

“So anything you can tell us about this year’s crop of competitors?”

“The same thing I say every year.  Never underestimate anyone.”

“Good advice!  And here come the first years now…”

***

Toshi stood with the rest of his class as the opening ceremony began.  Sixteen students in each of the three Hero courses, twenty students in each of the three Support, Business and Management, and General Studies courses for a total of two hundred twenty-eight competitors.  Only forty-two of which would get past the first round and then only sixteen of those forty-two would get to the tournament round. It made for incredibly stiff competition, though typically the Business and Support students did not try very hard to get into the other rounds, instead using either Halftime or the School Festival to show off their respective talents.  Though occasionally one did make it.

It was the General Studies students you really had to watch out for.  While many of them were quite happy with where they were and while changes to the Entrance Exam meant people with more diverse Quirks had a better shot at getting into the Hero Course… there were still plenty of them who were eager to move up.   And Toshi honestly wished them well.  He’d heard Uncle Shinso talk about it often enough over the years.  People should be able to follow their dreams.  But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try his hardest to win all the same.

This year’s first-year Chief Referee was Riza Arakawa, Hawkeye, their English teacher.  From what Grandpa Might had said, they’d had a more narrow body of teachers to select from for the job this year, since three of the teachers—Grandpa Might, Figure Sk8, and Hopper—were all related to students in the first year and they wanted to avoid any possible implication of impropriety.

She stood on the platform in her costume, which resembled a blue-military uniform, albeit one with a fairly tiny miniskirt, pistols hanging from her hips.  She was an intense blonde woman with piercing blue-eyes and a Quirk which granted her super-human accuracy with anything shot or thrown.   “And now,” Hawkeye said, “the student who scored the highest on the Entrance Exam will now give our opening declaration.  Will Kana Tetsutetsu please come to the stage?”

A cheer went up among the Hero Course students, none louder than Katsumi, though Toshi could hear plenty of cheers from Mineta and Koda, as well as the Class 1-B students pretty loudly as well.  Toshi himself, along with Katsumi, Izumi, the Iida Twins, and Shiro Monoma had all gotten in as Recommendation Students, rendering them ineligible for such an honor. But Tetsutetsu certainly deserved it. She was as strong and fast and skilled as anybody he had known, with the heart of a true hero.

The redhead from Class 1-B took to the stage.  “I just want to say,” she began, “that I hope everyone brings their A-game to this contest! Show us… show the world… your Manly or Wo-Manly best!  Just by being here, at U.A., we have already taken a tremendous first step in proving ourselves.  But as the future Heroes of tomorrow, we owe it to ourselves and our competitors to leave nothing on the table!  In the spirit of sportsmanship and friendly competition… let’s all GO BEYOND!”   She brought her right arm up, hand in a fist, as she converted it from flesh to steel.  “PLUS ULTRA!”

“PLUS ULTRA!”

Thunderous applause went up from the students and the crowd.  Toshi had heard longer speeches and he’d heard shorter ones.  But Tetsutetsu’s had been straight to the point, encouraging, and reminding them all that this was supposed to be a friendly competition.  Exactly the kind of thing it should do.

He looked over at the rest of his class.   “Okay,” he said.  “First event’s coming up.  Everybody ready?  Just like we planned it?”

Katsumi rolled her eyes. “Yes, Toshi.  You’ve only been over it a dozen times already.  We know what we’ve got to do.  You and your “buddy system.’”

Izumi touched her arm. “It is a good plan, Katsumi,” she said. “It gives our whole class the best chance to advance to the next round.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Katsumi groused.

Toshi stole a glance at the VIP boxes around the stadium.  He knew his parents were up there somewhere, and so were Katsumi’s, Izumi’s, and a few others.   Grandma Inko was up somewhere with Grandpa Might too.  

Lots of eyes on all of them. He was really going to have to do his best.

Time to Go Beyond!

***

Katsumi would never actually tell him, but Toshi’s plan for the race segment was actually pretty smart. Over half the class—Toshi himself, the Twins, Sero, the Newb, Tokyami, Shoji, Mineta, and Izzy—all had Quirks that could vastly aid in mobility in some fashion.  So Toshi had come up with a plan to pair them up with each other, complimenting Quirks where we could, so that they all had a better chance of making it to the next round.  She had, of course, insisted on being paired with Izzy.   Izzy could travel around by means of ice slides, but even with her regulator rig, she’d have to let loose with a lot of fire to manage absorbing that much heat.  Katsumi wasn’t fireproof by any means, but her Quirk did mean she had a small amount of heat resistance.  Besides… it meant she could watch Izzy’s back.  She could risk a few burns for that.

And… her own Quirk wasn’t good for getting around. Dad could propel himself with his explosions, but her situation was different.  She was in great shape and parkour with the best of them, but that didn’t do a lot of good with people who could fly or gravity jump or anything like that.  She hated to admit it, but her Quirk wasn’t suited for the race.  She’d give it her all in any case, but she knew she’d need help if she was going to make it.  If her Quirk had taken after her biological mother’s… well, maybe she’d have had a better chance.  But she had what she had.

The admission stung her, even unvocalized.  She hated admitting weakness of any kind.  Papa always said knowing your limits (while still trying to surpass them) was very (Wo)-manly… but, well, sometimes she had too much of Dad in her.

As they gathered near the starting line, she did her best to clear her mind and give Izzy a reassuring look. “We’ve got this, Izz,” she said. “You and me.  Same as always.”

Izzy smiled at her in return, and she felt her heart flutter for a moment.  Maybe Izzy didn’t love her the way she loved Izzy.  And maybe she still wasn’t over her, not by a long shot. But that smile could always make her feel like she could take on the world, if she was doing it for Izzy.  

“The same as always,” Izzy said.  

A hush fell over the crowd and the students, as Hawkeye called for quiet.  “The first event is an old but highly regarded traditional one… the Obstacle Course!  All you have to do is make it to the end and past the hazards! We know we have a number of flight Quirks this year, so it is requested that you fly no more than nine meters above the track!  You may use your Quirks against any hazard you encounter… but not against your fellow competitors!  Anyone caught violating this rules will be ejected from the tournament!”

She drew a flare gun from the holster on her left hip.  “Runners… on your mark…”

***

Isamu’s heart was pounding in his chest.  Dressed in his gym uniform, he’d petitioned and received permission to incorporate the gloves, goggles, and bandanna from his costume, as necessary and protective gear for when using his Quirk.  At Toshi’s suggestion, he’d been partnered with Mika Mineta for the race.   While she had a good foot speed of her own, he was a lot faster.  And between her horns acting like a battering ram and being able to use him as a gunnery platform for the sticky balls she could fire from them, he had to admit, it actually made a kind of sense.

“I dunno how I feel about riding you in front of all these people,   Haimawari.  Seems like that kind of thing ought to be more private.”

Man, was he grateful his gear hid how red he was getting.

“Get set…” Hawkeye continued, “go!”   She fired the flare gun, lighting up the sky.

He dropped instantly to all fours and grunted as Mineta landed on his back.  She was heavier than she looked.  Her legs (boy, those were muscular) squeezed his sides.  “Hiyo, Haimawari!”

“And they’re off,” the voice of Present Mic says, cutting through the din of everyone.  “Class 1-A takes an early lead, looking like they’re all in this together, but everyone else is close behind! “And it looks like we have a… winner?  Jin Ando of General Studies Class 1-E!  How…?!”

Aizawa’s voice cut in. “His student file says he’s a long range teleporter.  That can’t possibly be in the spirit of this event.”

“I guess we’ll just leave that one to the judges!  In the meantime, everybody keep it up!  Second place is still on the line!”

First place already gone? He rocketed forward, darting around some of the other competitors.   Around him, he could see Izumi climbing upwards on an ice-platform, Kirishima-Bakugo’s arms wrapped tightly around her midsection.  Toshi was bouncing in long gravity jumps, carrying Shinso in his arms. Sero, with Sato clinging to his back, fired a long strand of tape, grabbing onto one of the floating cameras and pulling himself into the air.  Tokoyami rose into the air, carried by Frog-Shadow, while Koda rode on the familiar’s back.  The Twins, with the wings from their costumes, rose into the air, each carrying one of their classmates; Aoyama with Tensei and Kaminari with Sora.  Shoji moved like some kind of giant spider on his Extendo-Arms, Ojiro carried in his normal arms.

Around them, other students flew or sped or ran, whatever their physicality and Quirks would allow.

Haimawari picked up his speed, yet knowing he needed to pace himself.  But speed was important here… he had to be one of the forty-two to make it.

***

Chihiro was going to be sick.  She’d been unprepared for the sudden feeling of acceleration that accompanied being carried by Iida, to say nothing of the fact that she was apparently not that great with heights and learning it at the absolute worst possible moment.  

They were hardly the only students in the air, though.  There was Sora’s brother, carrying Aoyama, and she could spy the comet girl from 1-C who had crashed into their dorm during the first week of school.  A bat-like boy from 1-C flapped beside them and a behind them there was a butterfly-winged girl from General Studies fluttered behind him.  There was even a boy from 1-B who had inflated himself like a beach ball and was bouncing almost as good as Toshi did with his gravity jobs.

“And now they’re coming up on the first obstacle!” came the voice of Present Mic.  “Courtesy of Power Loader and the Third Year Support students, get ready for something you’ve never seen before!  You’re heard of One-Pointers, Two-Pointers, Three-Pointers, and even Zero-Pointers, now feast your eyes on Minus One-Pointers!”

“Minus One?” Iida asked, bringing them a little closer to the ground.  Below, she could see the pack on the ground was being led by Haimawari and a female student from 1-C who instead of feet, had their legs joined in a singular wheel.  Izumi and Kirishima-Bakugo, on one of Izumi’s ice slides, weren’t far behind, with Izumi shooting the occasional blast of flame into the air.

“Beats me,” Chihiro said.

She didn’t have long to wait.  Even though the track remained clear, dozens of panels opened up in the ground and small robots, their main body barely bigger than an American football, with high spinning rotors and small claws, emerged.  Moving quickly, they began to swarm the students.

“Keep flying!” she told Iida.  “I’ll keep the path clear!”

“Roger!”

Chihiro extended both of Cords, sending a charge of electricity through both.  Each one struck out and pierced the sides of a drone, giving her a little bit of purchase.  The electricity disabled them and she tossed each one into another drone, which exploded in showers of sparks.  She quickly retracted her Cords, then shot then out again, spark-smashing her way through more.

“Ugh!”  Sora cried out in pain as a drone got past Chihiro, ramming into her side.  She lost her grip and Chihiro let out a scream as she began to fall.   But she shot out her Cords again, wrapping each one around the body of a drone.  

“AAAAH!”  Chihiro screamed, certain her Cords were going to rip from her head.  Each one could lift maybe 10 kilograms on a good day.  They definitely weren’t supposed to be used to support her full body weight.  She had maybe a few seconds before she had to let go or she was going to black out from the pain.

A body slammed into her and she found herself in Sora’s arms again.  “I must apologize,” she said.  “I was caught off-guard!  It took me longer than I expected to free myself from the swarm!”

Chihiro retracted her cords, hoping she wouldn’t be too sore to keep going.  “Just keep flying!”

Fortunately, it looked like many others were having the same trouble.  She could even see several students from the non-Hero courses who were signaling that they were giving up and were being pulled out by the medical robots.

She was determined not to be one of those.

***

With the constant up and down of Takuma’s tape-swinging, Kenta was pretty sure he was going to throw up.

“Oh, man, we are gonna die!” Takuma wailed.  He was actually doing better than most, since his Quirk was letting him just swing from robot to robot.  Kenta’s Quirk wasn’t much good here, but he was able to take a bite out of a few drones that got too close.  Toshi was definitely smart to have gotten them all to team-up.  He’d have been happy to help his best friend out anyway… but really, he was the one getting help.  His Quirk was one of the most useless here.

Fortunately, being the voice of reason was sometimes just as good as a Quirk.  “Dude,” he said to Takuma.  “Calm down.  I’ve got a plan.    See those two robots down there…”

“Yeah?” Takuma asked, letting go of a strand of tape and sending the both of them sailing through the air.

“Snag both of them!” Kenta ordered.  “And then reel us in!  Land on them!”

“Are you crazy?”

“No!  Crazy ideas are your department!  I’m the sensible one!  Grab something or we’re going to crash!”

“Okay, okay!  Quit yelling!”

Takuma fired off dual strands of tape, hooking a pair of robots and reeling the two of them in. His feet landed with a heavy thud, but the robots supported their weight.  With his tape and strong arm muscles, Takuma was easily able to steer the robots through the swarm.

“WAHOOO!” Takuma let out a cheer.  “You’re brilliant, bro!  Brilliant!”

“Remember that the next time I tell you something is a bad idea!”

“I make no promises!”

***

“And the first competitors are just now reaching the second stage!  Time to find out who’s got the goods and who’s a ‘pillar’ of our school!”

“…You didn’t really make that pun, did you?”

“I think you’ll find that I did!”

Tensei wasn’t sure what the second stage was, so he poured on the speed, Aoyama secure in his arms. The glowing blond had been invaluable during the robot-swarm of the first stage, blasting the robots right out of their path and letting him fly through without much difficulty.  But now, he couldn’t tell what was coming…

SHOOM!

A huge stone pillar shot up out of the ground and Tensei was forced to throw everything he had into flying upwards to avoid it, then rocketed backwards.

SHOOM!

More pillars shot up out of the ground, before falling back into their recessed holes.  He quickly estimated their height and found that they were taller than limited flight ceiling the Festival rules allowed him.  

SHOOM!

“Can we blast our way through?” Aoyama asked, charging up his light-blasts in his hands.

Tensei swooped in low, heading back to the rapidly appearing and disappearing pillars.  “I do not believe so,” he said.  “Estimating thickness and material hardiness, you would have to expend significant power to blast your way through even one, likely leaving very little to blast through any subsequent ones…”

“You could have just said non, you know,” Aoyama replied.

“I believe in providing all the necessary information,” Tensei replied.

They were losing ground. He could see some of the other competitors maneuvering through the pillar maze, some of the other flying students going to ground.  Others, like Haimawari were actually using the pillars, sliding up one and jumping to slide over the next.  And others still were just charging through.

SHOOM!

But now, even though he had fallen behind, he believed he had witnessed enough of the pillars movement to commit their pattern to memory.

“Hang on!” he shouted to Haimawari.  “TURBO… BOOST!”

He fired his Jetpack at full speed, shifting up just in time to avoid a pillar.  Fire, move, shift, fire more shift…  One pillar nearly clipped his wings, but he quickly recovered, firing a harder burst of his Quirk to avoid it.

Just a few more pillars and they’d be out of the maze…

***

SHOOM!

Shota screamed.  Not from fear, he trusted Toshi as his partner in the race to protect him, but to hold up his end of the partnership.  It was a fast, high-pitched sound, striking the pillar ahead of them and making it shimmer as this sonic effect accelerated the molecules of the pillar for a moment.  Just long enough for Toshi to jump them through it.  He definitely couldn’t do that trick for very long, but he didn’t have to either.

“Good job!” Toshi said. He bounced from pillar to pillar like a ping pong ball, rapidly shifting his gravity.  Even carrying Shota, he could keep up a good pace.  “Give me the signal when you’re ready for the next one!”

SHOOM!

Toshi jumped back, narrowly avoiding a rising pillar.  But he stepped too far back and…

SHOOM!

A pillar shot up under Toshi’s right foot, launching them both into the air.  Shota felt himself slip from Toshi’s grasp and this time he screamed for real as he went first up, then back down towards the still hammering pillars.  But even as he did, he called on his Quirk, hammering the pillar coming up at him with sonic waves.  Like he’d done during the Quirk Apprehension Test, he affected the state of the pillar’s matter, turning it into rippling waves.  He kept it up as he fell, pushing more power into it, into the air itself.  The air rippled before him, but slowed his fall.

SHOOM!

Toshi fell too, but he was more used to falling from great heights than Shota and recovered quickly, altering his gravity first to stop his upward ascent, then slowing his fall until he could do a gravity-assisted jump off another pillar.

“Gotcha!” Toshi said, as his next jump carried him to Shota, catching him in his arms.  “You okay?”

“I’m fine!” Shota told him. “That was fun!  Keep going!”

“We really gotta discuss your idea on fun, Shota,” Toshi said, launching himself into the air again.

***

SHOOM!

“Wheeee!” Frog-Shadow cried out.  “This is fun!”

“Can you just focus on us not getting smashed?!” Asuka demanded of her familiar.  So far, Frog-Shadow had mostly been behaving herself, which was good.  She knew she had a lot to live up to, after all, her father had placed third during his first Sports Festival.  And while neither of her parents would be upset if she did not place, they would if she gave it less than her all.  So she wanted to make as good a mark as she could.

Riding on top of Frog-Shadow, Koda tossed a handful of seeds into the pillar hole in front of them. Calling upon her Quirk, the stony-girl made them grow rapidly, filling the hole with choking vines and keeping the pillar from rising.  For a moment, at least.  She could already hear the sounds of vines snapping and urged Frog-Shadow onward.

“How are your supplies?” she asked Koda.  “I don’t want you to run out before the second event *chirp*.”

“Do not worry,” Koda said. “My request for my seed pouches for the Festival was quite generous.  I have plenty more to spare and can resupply before the third leg, should providence shine upon me to bring me there.”

“Good,” Asuka said.

SHOOM!

Something grey flashed by, wrapping around a pillar, and Asuka saw Monoma from Class 1-B swing through, a move she was certain belong to their teacher.  He gave them a brief salute as he sailed by.

“I wish you all the luck, Koda… But it is 1-B who shall prove the victors today!”

SHOOM!

Another pillar shot up and for a moment, it looked like Monoma was going to crash into it.  But Koda shot out an arm as he sailed by and pulled him back.

“You were saying, Shiro?” she asked.

“Perhaps this event will make victors of us all?”

“…As good as I expect to get.  Be safe, friend!”  Koda let him drop to the ground, perhaps a little roughly, but no more than he deserved in the moment.  They were in competition, after all.

“Onward!” Asuka shouted.

“I know, I know!  It’s not like I’m gonna go backwards!”

***

As they finally passed through the last of the pillars, Ojiro asked, “Can’t you go any faster, Shoji? We’re falling behind!”

Daisuke shook his head. “I’m going as fast as I can,” he said. Hand over hand, his Extendo-Arms keeping him up off the ground and moving at a brisk pace.  Not as fast as those with speed or flight Quirks, or even Sero’s swinging or Midoriya’s gravity-jumps, but faster than those who relied on footspeed alone.  

Not for the last time, he wondered how he’d managed to get paired up with Ojiro.  He strongly suspected that Midoriya had simply run out of classmates by the time he’d gotten to them.  That was all right, he supposed.  He ought to have been annoyed by it, but he was used to fading into the background.  

And, of course, he had to admit, Ojiro had come in very handy during the swarm of minus one-pointers. She’d simply turned the both of them invisible and they’d slipped through without issue.  Other than the couple of students who had nearly run them over or run into them, but well, it got them through.  

“Remember, we don’t have to come in first… just in the first forty-two,” he said.  “Just get to the next round.”

She smacked him upside the head with an invisible hand.  “That’s loser talk!”

“I can leave you behind, you know.”

She jerked in his arms. “No!  We have to work together!  Midoriya said!  I can’t win this on my own!  I get winded easy!”

Daisuke just rolled his eyes.  Such a drama queen.  Why was he cursed to be the sensible one?  “Don’t worry,” he said.  “We’re a team.  And that means nobody gets left behind.”

And now the final stage lay just ahead…

***

“And the first students are starting to make it to the third stage! In the lead are Haimawari, Mineta, Todoroki, and Kirishima-Bakugo from Class 1-A!  But they’ve got plenty of competition coming in from behind! Tetsutetsu from Class 1-B, Tanaka from Class 1-C, and…”

Izumi was beginning to tire.   Even releasing steady streams of fire, her regulator bands were blinking bright orange, verging on red.  But the finish line was so close.  

Katsumi had done an amazing job of protecting her, breaking off shards of their ice slide and turning them into deadly explosive projectiles.  She’d been able to assist in their defense as well, with her flame blasts.  It felt… good.  She was actually accomplishing something, going farther than she had ever gone before. She didn’t dare imagine she’d win, but for a moment, she believed she might place.

“You okay, Iz?” Katsumi asked.   She herself sounded fairly winded, but her determination came through  clearly.

“Managing,” she admitted.

Her ice slide ate up the distance quickly though and soon the third stage was upon them.

She hadn’t been expecting that.  Not in a million years.

“Oh…!”

[kreacts]

Superhuman [NCT]

Chapter 1: A New Start.

NCT Superhero AU.

Word Count: 3740.

There are still so many questions about what happened to humanity that night. Grace certainly can’t even begin to start answering them, she’s just trying to deal with being sort-of-homeless. There’s a chance she could find a new place to live at Yuzuki House, and Johnny appears to take her there. But the kids at Yuzuki House are special, and Grace gets her first glimpse of just how dangerous this new life could be.

The soft tick of the clock seemed deafening in the quiet café. The waitress was perched on a stool behind the counter, tapping silently at her phone. One man was tapping away on his iPad, an empty coffee cup on the table in front of him with the wrapper from his muffin discarded on the table.

Grace had already counted the crumbs on his table. There were 16, plus one very large clump that the man really should have eaten. She’d had a lot of time to think, sitting in the quiet coffee shop. She’d counted the 32 books on the far right wall, the nine tables and the 28 chairs around them, the 7 different types of flavourings that could be put into drinks. Anything and everything to keep from focussing on reality.

As she sat, tapping slowly at the rim of her cup, the door pushed open and a light, pleasant tinkling filled the room. The waitress stood up quickly, hiding her phone, and smiled at the young man. Grace didn’t look over, she didn’t want anyone to think she was in the shop just to stare at people. Still, she listened as he approached the counter and ordered a coffee and cookie, the quiet tap at the till. When he turned to begin looking for a table, she ducked down to begin rummaging through her backpack as if she were looking for something.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” Grace jumped up, mouth agape, and lifted her head to stare at the man. All she noticed was that he had dark hair and was a young adult, probably just a little bit older than herself.

“Uh,” Grace glanced down at her table. It was a table for four, sure, but there were plenty of spots still available in the room. “I guess? I am waiting for someone though…” Before she could finish her sentence, the man had grinned and pulled out the seat.

“Yeah, I know. That’d be me,” The man grinned as Grace raised a brow at him, her shoulders curling forward slightly.

“You’re not what I expected,” Grace admitted. “My mum said I’d be meeting a professor-“ Grace cut off as the waitress approached them, a tray resting on one hand. She smiled as she looked between them and moved the coffee cup and plate to the table in front of the man. She muttered a quiet ‘enjoy’ and the man gave his thanks as she walked away. He turned back to Grace slowly and shrugged.

“Sorry about that, there was a bit of an incident at the school, the professors had to stick around to fix the place up. Don’t worry!” The man reached out a hand seeing the look of alarm on Grace’s face. “It’s not a dangerous place, really. But so many Superhumans in one place, training, practicing. Sometimes things happen. Like minor explosions,” He paused to grin, taking in Grace’s shocked expression, then continued. “But we’re used to fixing things up by now. No worries.”

“No worries,” Grace echoed, staring at his face. His smile was friendly and warm. He was handling himself with ease, as if he weren’t there to pick up a random girl and take her half way across the country to a special school for magical people because her parents had decided that they didn’t want to support her any more.

“I’ve been at Yuzuki House for years now, before it was even a school, so don’t worry too much. You’ll be in good hands there, mine included,” The man lifted his hands to wiggle them, laughing quietly before reaching out to grab his cookie. He took a huge bite of it then scrunched his brow. “Why you lookin’ at me like that?” He asked around his chomped up mouthful.

“You don’t look familiar,” Grace admitted. She had been studying him carefully, looking for something she recognised.

The kids of Yuzuki House had become famous, many had travelled across the whole country to help in emergencies, some even internationally. Some had appeared more regularly than others and become quite famous across the whole world. Everyone knew Mark, for instance, his ice powers capture a lot of attention. Haechan, too, was a regular on peoples T.V’s as he lapped up attention. Jaemin was usually at his side, a favourite across the whole world for his good lucks and easy charm. But this man, she wasn’t sure about him. He was tall, tanned, and quite good looking. But she didn’t recognise him.

“Yeah, I don’t linger for the cameras,” The man had swallowed his bite of cookie and was nodding slowly. “My powers scare people so I tend to stick to the background. My name’s Johnny,” He added, grinning as Grace frowned. “I know. Not a name that appears on many reports. Government ones, sure, but who’s gonna read those?” Johnny shrugged and paused to take a long drink of coffee. When he placed his cup back down, he lifted an inquisitive look to Grace.

“You’ve just had a normal schooling, right? Nothing for your abilities?” He asked softly, taking another bite of his cookie.

Grace nodded. “Nothing. It took a while for anyone to really notice that I could do anything. Subtle power,” Grace lifted a hand and waved it slightly in an uncertain manner. “I didn’t think I used it too much, but apparently people began to notice that people acted differently around me. A man turned up at my house, a guy in a suit, to test me…” Grace trailed off and glanced away from Johnny. He smiled and nodded once.

“I get it, no worries. You’ll fit right in at the House, we just have to go and find a few more kids and then I can take you there. Is this all your stuff?” Johnny pointed towards the suitcase besides her. Grace nodded quickly, pursing her lips. She’d had a lot more, but it had seemed far more of a hassle to drag it with her. She had encouraged her parents to give it all to charity rather than keeping it in storage for her. “Fab!” Johnny drained his coffee, shoved the rest of the cookie in his mouth, then leapt up to grab the handle of the suitcase.

The moment he stood up, she saw it. She hadn’t been able to see it before, he had been facing her throughout the whole conversation. Now, as he turned, she took in the long black coat and, at the bottom right corner, there was a small white square with an embroidered red rose on it. The symbol of Yuzuki House.

“Come on, the kids aren’t far from here,” Johnny waited for Grace to shrug on her raincoat and sling her backpack over her shoulder before walking from the café. Grace glanced around the café once and gulped then hurried after him. She had committed to this path now, there was no time to hesitate.

***

“So, where are these kids? Who are they? Do you know what they can do?” Grace asked, striding alongside Johnny. He seemed to be shortening his strides for her, making it easy for her to keep up. She was grateful, her bag weighed a tonne on her back. Johnny glanced down to her and grinned, he lifted a hand slowly and brushed his hair behind his ear. Unable to stop herself, Grace followed the movement of his hands and grinned as she noticed what looked like a black ear piece in his left ear.

“I know everything, but we can talk about that on the journey. They aren’t far from here. They said they were going to do a bit of quick shopping before meeting us. One boy insisted he needed to get some new clothes,” Johnny rolled his eyes and grinned.

Grace didn’t think he had any right to judge people on their fashion choices. Johnny was dressed simply with black business trousers and a nice white shirt. His shoes were black and gleaming, clearly an expensive outfit. Whoever this other kid was, he would probably need a new wardrobe to fit in with this standard of clothes, if Johnny was anything to judge the rest of the House by. Grace, on the other hand, was wearing ripped blue jeans, a grey hoodie and dirty black converse. Perhaps she should do a bit of quick shopping when they found these boys, too…

“Oh, crap,” Johnny had skidded to a sudden stop and Grace had to flail to keep herself from falling over the suitcase. Johnny stood staring at the entrance to a huge shopping centre. The building was just walls of glass towering high into the sky. It was the type of place Grace wouldn’t even glance in as she walked past, knowing that even the socks being sold would be too expensive for her budget. What had caught Johnny’s attention, though, was the sight of four security guards performing a highland jig outside the entrance who were staring helplessly after the three boys running from the store, one boy with a large pile of clothes in his arms.

“I told you this was a bad idea!” The smallest of the boys yelled, leaping down a few steps before sprinting on. His cheeks were pink as he huffed and puffed, clearly desperate to get away. The boy with the clothes laughed.

“Oh, shut up Yangyang. We need to look good for the House. It’s not my fault the shop assistants don’t understand the cruel world we live in, where young people are discriminated against because of their fashion!” As he yelled, the boy stumbled and several items from his pile of clothes tumbled to the floor.

“Grab those, Yangyang,” The third boy yelled, pointing at the clothes. “I need my hands free in case we run into more trouble!”

“Hendery!” The young boy whined as he swooped down to snatch up the fallen clothes.

Johnny and Grace stood in a stunned silence across the road. Traffic moved past them quickly, no one noticing the scene. Grace couldn’t believe they didn’t notice the dancing guards or the fleeing boys, she thought it was quite noticeable.

“What do we do?” Grace whispered, her eyes bulging as the boys streaked towards the crossing.

“Stop them,” Johnny stated, releasing the suitcase. Not waiting for a response, he ran forward. He timed his movement perfectly, slipping across the street between the moving traffic.

“What should I do?!” Grace yelled. Johnny didn’t respond, he was already running to the boys, lifting his hands to get them to stop. Grace grabbed the handle of her suitcase and grunted, tugging it as fast as she could towards the crossing. Not trusting her ability to make it across safely, she reached out to push the little button then glanced at the traffic lights, huffing when they didn’t immediately turn red. All she could do was stand on her tiptoes, trying desperately to watch the scene as she waited for the lights to turn red.

Johnny had reached the boys and forced them to stop. The moment he did so, the guards stopped dancing. They had been keeping their eyes on the boys when they could and, as soon as they were free of the spell, they started to walk towards them, stumbling slightly as they made their way forward. The boys were all in a clear state of panic but they listened to Johnny’s words quietly, their heads slowly dipping to keep from meeting his eyes. Johnny was waving his hands around, pointing at the boy called Hendery that Grace had heard speak, then he pointed at the boy holding the clothes who had the decency to look nervous.

The guards had reached them by this point and they were yelling. Two of the boys leapt to hide behind Johnny. The third, the boy with the clothes, made as if to run away, but was caught by the bulk of one of the guards. He dropped the clothes immediately and began to struggle. Johnny was talking loudly, clearly trying to reason with them, but the guards were all red face, exhausted and embarrassed. Grace could tell Johnny’s reasoning wouldn’t work.

A sudden honk snapped Grace from her thoughts. She looked down and saw that traffic had stopped, two cars to her right. The man in front waved her across. Not giving it a second thought, Grace gripped her suitcase and bolted across the road. It took only 10 seconds to reach the boys, but one of the boys was nearly in cuffs by the time she got to them.

“Stop!” She yelled, barrelling past the boys. She released her suitcase and it landed near Johnny as she skidded between the boys and the guards. “You don’t want to do this!” She yelled, staring at the guards each in turn.

“I think we do,” One of the guards replied, tutting quickly. “These boys just tried to steal hundreds of pounds worth of clothes, if you think for one second that they won’t be arrest…” The guard’s words trailed off suddenly, a blank look washing across his face. He blinked slowly, scrunching his brow, then shook his head. The others were doing the same, too.

Grace was stood with both her hands raised, looking between each of the guards in turn. Her forehead was scrunched with effort, beads of sweat appearing and running down her cheeks. She’d never tried so hard to manipulate people’s emotions before. She didn’t know what to aim for, either, she was just trying to make them confused.

Someone stepped up besides Grace’s side, lifting a hand to join hers.

“I will pay for what they took, if you let them go. They’re just kids, they were confused. It won’t happen again,” Johnny’s voice was a calm murmur. Grace grunted and shifted her effort, beginning to chant be agreeable, be sympathetic in her mind as she continued to look between the guards. The guards were all a lot calmer now. Two looked confused but the other two were looking quite affectionately towards the boys, sad smiles on their faces.

Taking the moment of calm, the third boy slipped away from the guard and squatted down, slowly beginning to draw the clothes into a pile again whilst no one was watching him.

“I, no, well yes, of course. So young…” One of the guards squinted towards the boys and Grace focussed her efforts on him. Instantly a wave of calm washed over him and he sighed heavily. “I think we can agree to that. Peters, grab the clothes, we’ll go and get them paid for. Thank you, Sir.”

Grace sighed heavily, dropping her arms. She brushed the sweat from her brow quickly, watching as one of the guards stepped towards the boy and took the clothes from him with a happy expression. All of the guards turned and walked slowly towards the shop, much more relaxed than when they had emerged.

“Good job,” Johnny whispered quietly in Grace’s ear. He patted her shoulder a few times then turned towards the boys. “You lot stay here. And don’t steal anything else whilst I’m gone. Grace is in charge,” Johnny pointed at each of the boys sharply, staring at them with intense annoyance before turning and following the guards.

“Thank you so much,” One of the boys sighed deeply, rushing forward to hug Grace. He pressed his face into her arm, slumping as if completely exhausted. “I thought for sure we were going to be join. I didn’t even want the clothes, but Xiaojun insisted that we had to look good…”

“Do not blame me, Yangyang,” The boy who had been carrying the clothes stepped forward, shaking his head at the boy hugging Grace. “At least I didn’t force the guards into doing a flash mob like Hendery here,” Xiaojun rolled his eyes to the last boy who just shrugged, giving Grace a quick smile.

“I’m a sucker for synchronised dance,” He replied quickly, turning to share a grin with Xiaojun.

“I hate you both,” Yangyang muttered, stepping back from Grace and looking up to her. “But seriously, thank you. We all owe you one.”

Grace hesitated, looking between them. They didn’t look like hardened criminals. Maybe it was just a one-time mistake. She sighed and rolled her shoulders back, shaking her tiredness from her.

“It’s fine,” She smiled cautiously, pointing slowly at her suitcase. “But one of you can pull that for me till we get to the House. I will collect from the other two later. Deal?”

The three boys shared a quick look then nodded, each turning towards her.

“Deal.”

***

It only took 10 minutes for Johnny to work things out with the shop. Grace was glad. There was no telling when the guards might suddenly realise that they were actually angry at Xiaojun, Hendery and Yangyang and, since Johnny and Grace had helped them, they probably would want to arrest them, too.

It was a huge relief to them all when Johnny emerged from the shop, five huge bags filled with clothes. He scowled at the boys for a moment then shoved all the bags at Xiaojun, letting him figure out how to carry them, and turned to the others.

“Where do we go now? Are we getting a taxi? Or a… shuttle bus?” Grace stepped past Hendery, who was gripping her suitcase, ready to go. Johnny shook his head quickly and turned to mumble. Grace had a feeling he was talking to someone through his ear piece.

“And spend loads on taxi fare? Heck no. Yuzuki House has a bus, which is right here,” Johnny pointed down the street where, he was right, a bus was coming towards them. It looked like a normal grey city bus, it was even a double decker. There were adverts down the side of the bus, too, for Subway. Grace’s stomach rumbled at the sight.

“We have to ride on a bus for four hours?” Xiaojun questioned, a distinct whine in his voice. Johnny didn’t reply, he only laughed as the bus pulled up besides them, the door sliding open.

Yangyang, one of the only people unencumbered, leapt on the bus. He yelled a cheery hello to the driver, turned slightly, and let out a loud and long “woooowwww” then dashed off up the bus.

“After you,” Johnny smiled softly at Grace, sweeping his hand towards the bus. Not hesitating, she leapt up onto the bus.

Wow was right.

It was a bus, but it was actually clean and… nice. Where there were usually two individual seats, there were small, comfortable looking benches with padded seats. Directly to her right, where there was usually a luggage rack, was a big space that looked like a fridge freezer. As Grace moved slowly down the bus, she noticed storage spaces under the seats, and air-con fans in the ceiling. On the back of the seats were little tables, like an airplane, and places to put a drink.

A slow smile spread across Grace’s face as she slipped into one of the seats. Yangyang was at the back of the bus, bouncing up and down with a bright grin on his face.

“This is fantastic, right? Talk about travelling in style!”

Grace nodded slowly, running her hands over the soft leather of the seats. Xiaojun and Hendery both walked past her with changing looks of excitement on their face, talking about luxury and comfort and loving the smell of leather.

“Nice, huh?” Johnny appeared in the aisle and dropped in the seat opposite Grace’s. He lifted one leg up onto the seat and turned so that he was facing her, his back pressed the window. “It’s comfy for all journeys, short and long. Upstairs, the benches fold out, making one massive mattress for over-night journeys. There’s a toilet under the stairs, too.” Johnny grinned, gesturing around him. “You should get some sleep, it’ll be a while before we reach the House and you’ll probably need a lot of… energy… to handle it…”

“Yeah, sure,” Grace wiggled in her seat, trying to get comfortable. After a moments silence, she turned to Johnny. “The boys really aren’t going to get into trouble? They stole clothes…” Grace lowered her voice, glancing back at the boys. They were all gathered close together, chattering quietly. Yangyang was curled on his side, resting his head on Xiaojun’s shoulder, apparently he’d already forgiven him for nearly getting him arrested.

“It’s hard for people like us,” Johnny sighed, kicking off his shoes as he settled back into the comfy seat. “For adults who showed abilities, it was easy for them. They were already self sufficient. Anyone younger than them… they relied on kindness and the open minds of people around them. But normal parents. Well. Most can’t handle people like us,” Johnny was looking at Grace as he spoke, his tone gentle so as keep from getting the boys attention. “Some have to rely on stealing to live. So, no, they won’t get in too much trouble. Now that they have people to look out for them, they should be okay…”

Grace smiled. “You’re a good guy, Johnny.”

“I try,” Johnny chuckled, slumping down into the seat. He yawned loudly, smiling sleepily across at Grace. “I want to be a good Superhuman.”

“I guess it’s pretty easy not to be,” Grace admitted. The bus was rumbling quietly around them, already moving through the busy streets. She had barely noticed, so entranced by her surroundings of the bus and the people. “What I did with the guards… I could have gotten away with stealing millions.”

“That thought had never occurred to you before?” Johnny asked, watching her carefully across the seats.

“No. Never,” Grace replied instantly. “I’ve never really wanted much. I just sit at home and read, mostly. Go on Tumblr, you know…” She shrugged and turned to face the window, resting her cheek against the back of her seat.

“Well, don’t let those thoughts get into your mind. You’d do just as well getting a job and earning money to buy your books,” Grace laughed and nodded, but didn’t reply.

Things were quiet on the bus, but a far more comfortable quiet than she’d been in at the café. She felt safe here, around people like her. Maybe she would make it through this day after all. Maybe she could find a home with these people.

[chocolatequeennk]

Forever and Never Apart, 39/42

Summary: After taking a year to recover from the Master, the Doctor and Rose are ready to travel again. But Time keeps pushing them forward, and instead of going back to their old life, they slowly realise that they’re stepping into a new life. Friends new and old are meeting on the TARDIS, and when the stars start going out, the Doctor and Rose face the biggest change of all: the return of Bad Wolf.

Series 4 with Rose, part 7 of Being to Timelessness; sequel to Taking Time (AO3 | FF.NET | TSP)

Betaed by @lastbluetardis, @rudennotgingr, @jabber-who-key, and @pellaaearien. Thank you so much!

This fills several Bad Wolf prompts on @doctorroseprompts

AO3 | FF.NET | TSP

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9 | Ch 10| Ch 11 | Ch 12 | Ch 13 | Ch 14 | Ch 15 | Ch 16 | Ch 17 | Ch 18 | Ch 19 | Ch 20 | Ch 21 | Ch 22 | Ch 23 | Ch 24 | Ch 25 | Ch 26 | Ch 27 | Ch 28 | Ch 29 | Ch 30 | Ch 31 | Ch 32 | Ch 33| Ch 34 | Ch 35 | Ch 36 | Ch 37 | Ch 38

Guys. You have no idea how excited I am for this chapter. I loved coming up with a solution to the Daleks that was original and fit the restrictions I'd placed on the story--Bad Wolf, but not with the Vortex power. I can't wait to hear what you think!

Chapter Thirty-nine: Time and Relative Dimension in Space

When Jack had first started crawling through the ventilation ducts, his wrist comp had indicated a large group of humans gathered together in the Crucible. A moment ago, the device had beeped, and he’d watched those dots—those indicators of life—flicker out.

Before helpless rage could set in, he realised there were still three human dots left outside the Vault, and they were close by. “Right,” he muttered to himself as he shimmied through the shaft to the closest access point. “You three are about to become my new best friends.”

He popped the access panel open and rolled out onto the floor. Flat on his back, he blinked a few times, then shot a cheeky grin at the familiar woman smirking down at him. Jack leapt to his feet and snapped a salute. “We meet at last, Miss Smith.”

He glanced at the couple standing behind Sarah Jane, and his eyes widened. “Jackie Tyler! You are honestly the last person I ever expected to meet onboard a Dalek stronghold.”

Rose’s mum frowned at him for a moment, then her expression cleared. “Oh, I remember you! You visited with Rose and the Doctor once, back before he changed his face.” She gestured to the man at her side. “This is my husband, Pete.”

Jack quickly shook Pete’s hand, then scanned the small group. “We’ve got to do something to help the Doctor.”  

Sarah Jane nodded. “There is something we can do.”

She took a shuddering breath, and Jack had a feeling that whatever she was about to suggest was of the last resort variety.

“You’ve got to understand,” she said hurriedly. “I have a son down there on Earth. He’s only fourteen years old.”

Pete put a hand on her shoulder and nodded when Sarah Jane turned to look at him. “You don’t need to explain to us, Sarah Jane. We have a son, too. Whatever you want to do, if it will save the people down there on Earth, and on our Earth… we’re in.”

Jackie nodded in agreement.

Sarah Jane’s jaw tightened, and any hesitation she’d displayed disappeared. “I’ve brought this.” She pulled something out of her pocket, and when she unclenched her fist, a sparkling gem fell from her hand, dangling from a chain. “It was given to me by a Verron Soothsayer. He said, ‘This is for the End of Days.’”

She handed it to Jack, and he looked from the stone to Sarah Jane and back again. “Is that a Warp Star?” he asked, hardly daring to believe what he was holding. She nodded quickly, and Jack sucked in a breath. They might just have a chance, after all.

Jackie Tyler crossed her arms over her chest. “Someone mind telling the rest of us what a Warp Star is?” she snarked.

Jack couldn’t take his eyes off the weapon as it spun and sparkled in his hands. “A warpfold conjugation trapped in a carbonised shell. It’s an explosion, Jackie.” Reluctantly, he looked at Sarah Jane again. “An explosion waiting to happen.”

Blowing up the Crucible was a last resort, as he’d suspected. But compared to some extreme measures he’d been forced to employ over the years, there was very little moral ambiguity in this plan. Destroy the Daleks, save reality. It was as simple as that.

His conscience pricked at him, and he knew there was one more thing the Doctor would want him to do before he blew up the space station. They had to give the Daleks a chance—a chance to leave and let them all live.

oOoOoOoOo

Martha fidgeted with a pen she’d found on the desk. Osterhagen Station Four had come online only a few minutes after she’d sent out the call, but the bloke manning the station was tight-lipped and grim-faced.

She tapped the pen on the desk while she waited for a third station to come online. She had a plan, but since the Osterhagen Keys only worked when three of them were activated, she couldn’t implement it until another operative joined them.

A burst of static caught her attention, and she looked up as the feed from China went live. “This is Osterhagen Station Five. Are you receiving, Station One?”

“I’ve got you.” Martha glanced at the two live screens. “That makes three of us, and three is all we need.”

“My name is Anna Zhou. What’s yours?”

“Martha Jones.” She looked right. “What about you, Station Four? You never said.”

The officer in Liberia shook his head. “I don’t want my name on this, given what we’re about to do.”

“So what happens now?” Anna asked, filling in the awkward silence following that grave pronouncement. “Do we do it?”

Martha shook her head. With three keys in place, they had the leverage they needed to possibly convince the Daleks to leave. They might have to use the Osterhagen Key in the end, but first…

She turned the square key over in her hands. “No. Not yet.”

Anna frowned. “UNIT instructions say, once three Osterhagen Stations are online—”

“Yeah, but I’ve got a higher authority, way above UNIT,” Martha cut in. She looked at the disk that would activate the nuclear warheads. “And there’s one more thing the Doctor would do.”

She’d thought of a way to give the Daleks a chance. Whether or not they took it would be up to them.

oOoOoOoOo

Bad Wolf felt like she was floating as she danced around the TARDIS console. Each movement she made was so automatic and sure, it was like she’d practised it a hundred times over.

“Davros gave us the key to his own downfall,” she mused. The timelines she’d sensed when he showed them his own skeletal body made sense now.

The TARDIS hummed in agreement as Rose keyed the carefully chosen coordinates into the navigation panel.

“He created the Daleks out of his own genetic material, which means…” She tapped a few buttons to test her theory and grinned when the TARDIS confirmed that genetically, every Dalek on that station was identical to each other and their creator. This plan would work.

Bad Wolf jolted slightly when she felt another mind connect with hers. She’d become so completely connected with the TARDIS as they’d worked on their plan to defeat the Daleks that every other telepathic connection had been almost forgotten.

Rose?

The name felt… wrong, somehow. Incomplete. But before she could correct the Doctor, the part of her being that belonged to Rose Tyler asserted herself. Bad Wolf remembered that while she was Bad Wolf, she was also Rose and the TARDIS, individually.

Yes, Doctor?

He hesitated for a second. Am I talking to Rose, right now? Or to Bad Wolf? I mean. I know Bad Wolf is Rose, but they’re also not Rose and I would like…

His ramble and frustrated sigh brought a smile to Rose’s face, and she reached for the bond. Bad Wolf watched as she gave the Doctor an affectionate telepathic caress that seemed so familiar. A moment later, they felt the Doctor relax under the soft touch.

If you have a plan, love, now would be an excellent time to set it in motion.

The obvious indication that they were on borrowed time brought Bad Wolf back to the front of Rose’s mind. Davros and the Daleks were threatening her Doctor. A glint of gold filled her vision as she typed the final command into the TARDIS terminal, and a moment later, her sonic screwdriver beeped as it received the software update.

She slid the device into her pocket, then pulled his sonic out of his coat on impulse and put that in her pocket as well. We’ll be there soon, she promised the Doctor. I’ll keep you safe, my Doctor.

oOoOoOoOo

The Doctor’s eyes widened when he recognised the voice of Bad Wolf. Rose still used that endearment, but he’d never heard it spoken with quite the same intonation as she’d used that first time—until now.

She was still Rose; that hadn’t been a lie. But her typical pink and gold telepathic aura was now shot through with a deeper gold as the TARDIS connected her to Time.

He’d worried before that Rose’s… well, Roseness—the essence of what made her Rose—would be subsumed if she ever merged with the TARDIS again. But in that brief conversation with her, she’d felt just as much like Rose has she had in four years of telepathic conversation. And then the reminder of the imminent danger had brought Bad Wolf to the fore, and Bad Wolf had been completely Bad Wolf while still being completely Rose.

The dynamic state of being two things at once had flummoxed Christian theologians for millennia. And now, having experienced it, he couldn’t explain her dual nature, not even with his big Time Lord brain. He could only shrug and say, as theologians did, that it just was.

The view screen turned back on, interrupting his existential musings. The Doctor straightened up when he saw Martha’s face onscreen.

“This message is for the Dalek Crucible. Repeat. Can you hear me?”

“Put me through,” the Doctor ordered the Daleks.

“It begins, as Dalek Caan foretold,” Davros said.

Propped up in his open casing, Caan giggled softly. “The Children of Time will gather once the Wolf has been silenced.”

Even though he knew Rose was fine, those words still aggravated a wound that was too fresh to be picked at. “Stop saying that.” He looked at Davros and made his demand again. “Put me through!”

“Doctor!” Martha said, and the Doctor felt a rush of relief that they could see each other. Her eyes shifted from right to left, and he tensed in anticipation of her next words. “Where’s Rose?”

Davros rolled forward. “We took the TARDIS and Rose Tyler, and we destroyed them together.” He rubbed his hands together gleefully. “The Doctor was powerless to help her.”

Martha blinked rapidly and opened and closed her mouth a few times. Then she tilted her head and looked at the Doctor. “She was with the TARDIS?”

He nodded, and he hoped he was the only one who could read the relief in Martha’s posture. Like Jack and Mickey, Martha knew enough to find a grain of hope in that fact.

“Enough chatter,” Davros interrupted. “State your intent.”

Martha held up something, and another rock landed in the pit of the Doctor’s stomach when he recognised an authorisation key for a missile.

“I’ve got the Osterhagen Key,” Martha said grimly. “Leave this planet and its people alone or I’ll use it.”

“Osterhagen what?” the Doctor sputtered. “What’s an Osterhagen Key?”

Martha’s shoulders lifted and fell as she drew a breath. “There’s a chain of twenty-five nuclear warheads placed in strategic points beneath the Earth’s crust,” she explained. “If I use the key, they detonate and… the Earth gets ripped apart.”

It was exactly the kind of ridiculous last resort weapon humans would invent. And of course UNIT wouldn’t tell him about it, because they knew exactly what his response would be.

“What? Who invented that?” The Doctor shook his head. “Well, someone called Osterhagen, I suppose. Martha, are you insane?” He regretted the words as soon as he said them, but this just sounded so un-Martha like that he couldn’t even comprehend what she was saying.

She set her jaw. “The Osterhagen Key is to be used if the suffering of the human race is so great, so without hope”—she nodded a few times, because they were almost to that point, and they both knew it—“that this becomes the final option.”

The Doctor shook his head violently. “That’s never an option.” He’d destroyed his own planet—he knew the weight of that choice. Even though he knew it had been a choice between Gallifrey and the universe, he still wondered if he could have found a way to save them all.

“Don’t argue with me, Doctor!” Martha shouted. “Because it’s more than that. Now, I reckon the Daleks need these twenty-seven planets for something. But what if it becomes twenty-six?” She held the key up, a feral smile on her face. “What happens then? Daleks?” She looked over at Davros. “Would you risk it?”

The Doctor blinked; now that sounded more like Martha.

“She’s good,” Mickey said, and the Doctor raised an eyebrow at the blatant admiration in the other man’s voice.  

A second screen suddenly split off from the first, this one showing Jack, Sarah Jane, and—the Doctor gaped—Pete and Jackie. “What?” he mumbled, though really, by this point in the day, he should be beyond feeling shocked by anything.

“Captain Jack Harkness, calling all Dalek boys and girls.” Jack was holding a bundle of wires up in front of the camera. “Are you receiving me? Don’t send in your goons, or I’ll set this thing off.”

“He’s still alive?” Jenny gasped, staring at Jack. “And… Who’s that, behind Sarah Jane?”

The Doctor glanced over at his daughter, then at his mother-in-law onscreen. “Well. That’s… that’s your gran and granddad.”

He winced when Jackie shrieked, silenced almost immediately by Pete’s hand over her mouth. Off to the side in his own holding cell, Mickey chortled.

“Captain, what are you doing?” he asked Jack, choosing to focus on the universe ending and not the fact that he’d just given Jackie the biggest shock of her life. At least, he assumed meeting your alien grandchild trumped learning aliens existed.

“I’ve got a Warp Star wired into the mainframe,” Jack said, and the Doctor finally recognised what was holding the tangle of wires together. “I break this shell, the entire Crucible goes up.”

“You can’t—where did you get a Warp Star?” the Doctor asked, momentarily distracted by that curiosity.

“From me,” Sarah Jane interrupted, shaking her head behind Jack. “We had no choice. We saw what happened to the prisoners.”

Davros wheeled closer to the screen. “Impossible. That face. After all these years.”

Sarah Jane moved to stand in front of Jack. “Davros. It’s been quite a while. Sarah Jane Smith. Remember?”

“Oh, this is meant to be,” Davros breathed rapturously, and a muscle in Sarah’s jaw twitched. “The circle of Time is closing. You were there on Skaro at the very beginning of my creation.”

“And I’ve learnt how to fight since then.”

There was a bite to Sarah’s words that caught the Doctor by surprise. He looked from her to Martha, and he started to understand. They were making a stand, all of them.

Sarah Jane pressed her lips into a thin line, and when she spoke, every word was measured and sharp. “You let the Doctor go, or this Warp Star gets opened.”

“I’ll do it,” Jack promised. “Don’t imagine I wouldn’t.”

“Now that is what I call a ransom!” Donna crowed.

The Doctor pressed his tongue to the back of his teeth. This wasn’t how he would have chosen to challenge the Daleks, but he couldn’t help but be proud that none of his friends were cowering at home. They were all doing something, whatever they could.

“And the prophecy unfolds,” Davros gloated.

The Doctor blinked. “Prophecy?” he repeated. “What prophecy?”

“The Doctor’s soul is revealed,” Caan sang. “See him. See the heart of him.”

Davros leaned back in his chair and tapped his fingers together, a vengeful smile creasing his sunken cheeks. “The man who abhors violence, never carrying a gun. But this is the truth, Doctor. You take ordinary people and you fashion them into weapons. Behold your Children of Time transformed into murderers. I made the Daleks, Doctor. You made this.”

The Doctor watched some of the fire go out of Martha, Jack, and Sarah Jane, and he shook his head quickly. “Not murderers, Davros. Defenders. Defenders of the Earth.” He nodded at Dalek Caan. “Caan was right. This shows you who I am. Not one of my friends was willing to just sit at home when you tried to take over the Earth.” A memory Rose had shared with him once came back to him, giving him the words to explain. “They didn’t give up or let things happen. They’re making a stand.”

He looked at all of his friends, now standing straight. “Would I have done things differently?” He shrugged. “Possibly. But I’m proud of all of them.”

Davros paused for a moment, and the Doctor knew his response hadn’t been what was expected. And not too long ago, he would have been lost to guilt.

“Would you still be proud of them if they gave their lives for you?” Davros challenged. “Your wife is not the only one who has sacrificed herself today, for their beloved Doctor. The Earth woman who fell opening the Subwave Network.”

“Who was that?” the Doctor asked, his stomach knotting as he braced for the answer.

“Harriet Jones,” Mickey told him.

The Doctor sucked in a breath. He’d barely thought about Harriet Jones of Flydale North since he’d had her removed from office almost four years ago.

“She gave her life to get you here,” Mickey added.

“How many more?” Davros goaded. “Just think. How many have died in your name?”

The Doctor looked at his friends, and he could see the truth in their eyes. They loved him, and they were here because of him, but not for him. They were here for the Earth, for their families, for all the people who didn’t have anyone to defend them.

And there were so many people who had made the same choice in his travels, the choice to put themselves in the path of danger to save a life or a planet. Their loss hurt, as it always did, but he couldn’t remember them without also remembering the people they’d saved. He wouldn’t cheapen their sacrifices by letting the guilt overwhelm him.

But Davros took his silence for guilty agreement, and he cackled. “The Doctor. The man who keeps running, never looking back because he dare not, out of shame. This is my final victory, Doctor. I have shown you yourself.”

Over the bond, Rose pulled him close. He felt a comforting warmth envelope him, as if she’d wrapped her arms around his waist and held him tight. For a moment, they both remembered the friends they had lost—Anita, Morvin and Foon and Banakafalata, Solomon, and so many others who had sacrificed their lives to save others.

But Davros is right, love, Rose agreed. He’s shown you how you change people, how you give them the strength to be the best people they can be. She pressed a kiss to his cheek. And he’s shown me how much you’ve changed. I’m so proud of you for understanding the truth.

The silence hanging in the Vault was heavy with emotion, but the Supreme Dalek didn’t let it sit long. “Enough. Engage defence mechanism zero five,” he ordered abruptly.

The Doctor’s eyes widened. He knew what that meant, even if his friends didn’t.

Onscreen, Martha stood up, holding the missile key in her hand. “It’s the Crucible or the Earth,” she said, delivering her ultimatum.

“Transmat engaged,” a Dalek said, and blue light engulfed Martha.

“No!” she shouted. The Osterhagen Key fell useless to the ground as she was transmatted to the Crucible.

On the other screen, Jack, Sarah Jane, Jackie, and Pete disappeared as well. They reached the Vault at the same time and almost the same place as Martha, and when Martha stumbled into a rolling landing, Jack helped her to her feet.

“I’ve got you. It’s all right.”

“Don’t move, all of you,” the Doctor warned his friends. “Stay still.” He reached for them, then silently cursed the containment field that was in his way.

“Guard them!” Davros cried, pointing at the newcomers. “On your knees, all of you. Surrender!”

Martha, Sarah Jane, Jack, Jackie, and Pete all looked to him for guidance, and the Doctor nodded his head quickly. “Do as he says.”

A Dalek slowly rolled towards them, and Jackie was the first to get on her knees with her hands behind her head. Pete was right behind her.

Mickey put his hands on his hips and glared at Pete. “I can’t believe you brought Jackie.”

Pete rolled his eyes, and the Doctor could guess the truth before he said it. “She came on her own.”

Jackie tilted her head back and scowled at the Doctor. “Good thing I did, or I wouldn’t know I had a granddaughter.”

“The final prophecy is in place,” Davros purred as he rolled towards them. “The Doctor and his children, all gathered as witnesses.”

Jack and the Doctor exchanged a glance—Jack questioning, the Doctor trying to reassure him without words that there was a plan in place.

Davros looked up at the main level of the Crucible above them. “Supreme Dalek, the time has come.” He pointed victoriously at the ceiling. “Now, detonate the Reality Bomb!” he shrieked, the words echoing through the Vault.

The floor vibrated as the mechanism was set in motion. At the same time, the Doctor felt the TARDIS shift into the Time Vortex.

“You can’t, Davros!” he insisted, continuing to play his part. “Just listen to me! Just stop!”

Davros threw his head back and laughed, sounding every bit like the mad scientist he was. “Nothing can stop the detonation. Nothing and no one!”

The Doctor couldn’t hide his smirk when he heard the first hint of the familiar sound of the TARDIS engines, a second before anyone else caught it. Dalek Caan giggled, and the Doctor shot him a quick glance, still unsure exactly what role the insane Dalek had played in the events of the day.

Wind rushed around them as the outline of the TARDIS appeared. “But that’s the TARDIS,” Donna said. “I thought… and Rose…”

Mickey shook his head. “Rose Tyler in the TARDIS? That’s a hard combination to beat.”

Jenny’s blue eyes sparkled with excitement. “Oh, I knew it!” she crowed, clapping happily and bouncing lightly on her toes.

The TARDIS materialised on the edge of the room, and Davros rolled back a few feet. “Impossible,” he whispered.

The Doctor rocked back on his heels, with his hands stuck in his pockets. “Oh… I learned a long time ago that nothing’s impossible for Rose Tyler.”

oOoOoOoOo

After kissing the Doctor’s cheek and letting him know how proud she was of him, Rose pulled back enough from the bond to focus on the details of her rescue. That moment with the Doctor had served a second purpose. She’d been able to see the Vault through his eyes—important, because the success of the next part of the plan was largely dependent on the selection of her hiding place.

She’d just settled on a small corner tucked away behind a computer terminal when the image on the monitor flickered and then changed to show the arrangement of planets glowing again. Her eyes widened, and she took a deep breath and looked at the time rotor.

“Are you ready, old girl?” Out of everything they’d planned, this was the part that seemed the most incredible to Rose. Bad Wolf knew it would work; Rose Tyler thought it was almost impossible.

I am part of you, my Wolf, just as you are part of me, the TARDIS reminded her. We don’t need the power of infinite Time to travel through time and space.

Rose nodded. “All right then. Let’s do it.” The time rotor moved up and down, and at the same time, the console room faded from Rose’s sight as she sent herself separately into the Vault.

Rose had used a Vortex Manipulator before, but that was nothing like travelling through the Vortex as one who belonged there. Time whipped around her as she crossed the short distance, until she rematerialised behind the computer terminal, exactly as she’d planned.

The gold haze was still clearing from her vision when Rose peeked around the edge of the computer terminal to assess the situation. In addition to everyone who had been in the TARDIS, Martha and Sarah Jane were there along with—Rose had to press her hand to her mouth to stifle her gasp—her mum and Pete.

Every eye was focused on the TARDIS, who had positioned herself on the edge of the room. Hidden safely from view, Rose watched the Doctor. He was rocking back on his heels with a smug grin on his face.

“Oh… I learned a long time ago that nothing’s impossible for Rose Tyler,” he told Davros, in response to a comment Rose hadn’t heard.

For a moment, Rose’s grin matched his. Then a mad glint entered Davros’ eyes and he pointed a shaking hand at the Doctor. “Exterminate him!” he shrieked, angry spittle gathering on his chin.

Daleks rolled towards the Doctor, chanting, “Exterminate. Exterminate. Exterminate.”

With the threat to their Doctor, Bad Wolf once more moved to the front of Rose’s mind. Her fingers danced over the controls on the terminal until she found the ones she needed and pressed them gleefully.  

A low hum echoed around the room as every single Dalek weapon was rendered useless. The Daleks circling the Doctor looked down at their death rays, like children whose favourite toys had been taken away.

“Weapons non-functional,” they croaked morosely.

Rose straightened up so they could see her. Gasps echoed around the Vault and her mum cried her name, but Rose focused on Davros, whose hollow eyes glared at her balefully.

“Yeah, did you really think I was going to let you kill him?” she demanded. “I might not be able to stop your laser bolts in midair anymore, but I can still shut all your weapons off thanks to this handy terminal that lets me into your mainframe. So you might as well just point those egg beaters somewhere else, because they aren’t going to do you any good.”

The Doctor blinked rapidly. “How did you get over there?” he asked, looking from her to the TARDIS and back again.

Rose winked at him. “Bad Wolf means I’m both me and I’m the TARDIS. Anything the TARDIS can do, I can do. Such as disappearing from one place and reappearing in another.”

The Doctor opened and shut his mouth a few times before finally shaking his head. “Of course you can,” he said, a smile stretching across his face.

Flush with the success of her first task, Rose jumped when the Supreme Dalek started the final countdown to detonation. She’d almost forgotten about the Reality Bomb. Davros turned the view screen back on, and they all watched the energy being channelled through the twenty-seven planets.

Davros steepled his hands together and a malicious grin stretched his face unnaturally. “Your mate is alive, your TARDIS is here, and yet you are still helpless, Doctor.”

“Detonation in twenty rels,” the Supreme Dalek announced over the tannoy.

“Stand witness, Time Lords,” Davros whispered as the Supreme Dalek continued the countdown. “Stand witness, humans. Your strategies have failed, your weapons are useless, and—Oh.” His lips twisted into a mocking smile. “The end of the universe has come,” he said as they all watched the glowing planets.

Rose rolled her eyes. “Or, I don’t know.” She pushed another button on the terminal, and the ominous buzz of energy building in the weapon faded as the Z-neutrino relays were shut down. “Maybe not?” she said nonchalantly when the view screen turned off.

The Doctor laughed as an alarm sounded through the Vault. Davros and the Daleks were rolling around, completely baffled, but he knew exactly what had happened.

“System in shutdown,” said one Dalek.

“Detonation negative,” another announced.

“Explain. Explain. Explain!” the Supreme Dalek demanded.

“You’ll suffer for this,” Davros cried and pointed his finger at Rose.

The Doctor frowned; what exactly did Davros think he was going to do by just pointing a finger at Rose? Then he saw the bolt of energy travelling down the scientist’s arm, and his gaze flew to Rose.

Rose just smirked and pushed a button on her computer terminal, and the electrical bolt that was travelling down Davros’ finger reversed and he electrocuted himself, instead of Rose.

Davros shrieked in pain when the electricity engulfed him, and the Doctor laughed again. “Hoisted by your own petard, Davros.”

“Seemed fitting,” Rose said, her tongue peeking out behind her teeth.

“Oh, I absolutely agree,” the Doctor said. “Bad Wolf, saving the day single-handedly.”

Rose raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, you could help if you wanted. Why’re you just standing over there?” she asked. The Doctor tapped the side of the holding cell, and she nodded quickly. “Oops! Sorry, Doctor.” She bent over the terminal for a moment, then smiled up at him. “That should do it.”

He saw the containment field shut off and ran over to her while she pressed another button that sealed the Vault off from the rest of the Crucible. “Rose Tyler,” he breathed as he pulled her into his arms, unable to resist a quick hug. The golden energy he could see fluctuating beneath her skin sent a charge through him when he touched her. “You are so impressive, love.”

She spun out of his arms and shot him a cheeky grin. “Oh, I know,” she promised him. “And now I think it’s time to send some planets home. We’ve stopped the bomb—let’s completely dismantle it.”  

“Stop them!” Davros ordered hysterically. “Get them away from the controls.”

Rose rolled her eyes and worked quickly at the terminal. “You’re so fond of those holding cells; why don’t you spend some time in one yourself?”

The Doctor rubbed his hands together gleefully as the blue energy walls of the containment fields lowered. A large wall separated Davros and the bulk of the Daleks in the other half of the room, where they couldn’t do any damage. The rest she trapped in groups of two or three.

I don’t know why you wanted my help, Rose. You seem to be handling them by yourself just fine.

Rose looked back at him over her shoulder, one eyebrow arched seductively. There are lots of things I can handle by myself that are more fun with your help.

The Doctor choked on his laughter and tugged on his tie. You’ll have to show me later.

Oh, I will.

He laughed when Rose winked outrageously before bending over the computer terminal. Her lips moved as she muttered to herself, and he rocked back on his heels to watch her work. All teasing aside, she really did have things nicely handled all by herself.

The sound of Daleks spinning in helpless circles caught his attention, and when he looked away from Rose, he saw their entire family watching them. Jenny, Donna, Jack, Martha, Mickey, Sarah Jane, and Pete and Jackie—all alive because of Rose.

The Doctor frowned when Jack broke away from the group and ran into the TARDIS. What is he up to?

Jack had to hand it to Rose; so far, every one of her plans had been flawless. She’d arrived at the perfect moment, eliminated the Dalek threat, stopped Davros from blowing up all of reality… He scanned the Vault, his eyes never settling in one place for long. Things were going perfectly, and it was his job to make sure there were no hidden surprises.

Unlike everyone else, he hadn’t laughed when Rose trapped the Daleks behind the containment fields. Rose had taken care of the Dalek threat in the Vault… for now. But these weren’t the only Daleks around, and he was under no illusion that the Supreme Dalek and his pals upstairs would let them ruin all their hard work.

He shook his head and ran into the TARDIS. The guns he and Mickey had brought with them were just inside the door, and he grabbed them and ran back out.  

“Mickey!” His friend spun around, and Jack tossed the second weapon to him.

“What are you doing, Jack?” the Doctor demanded as Mickey caught the gun handily.

Jack shook his head. “Just being prepared for the worst,” he explained. “Rosie here seems to have everything well in hand, but… well, I’d rather not be caught off-guard.”

Bad Wolf felt a wave of affection and appreciation for this human she had condemned to eternity. There were reasons for that, reasons that he wouldn’t fully understand until he used his last breath to offer the Doctor and Rose a warning they wouldn’t understand until it was too late. But despite the fact that Time had insisted on this path, her humanness deeply regretted the pain it had caused him.

The Doctor opened his mouth to protest, and Rose put her hand on his arm and smiled up at him. “It’s fine, Doctor. Now. We’ve got twenty-seven planets to send home. Activate magnetron.”

“Stop this at once!” Davros cried futilely from the other side of the containment field.

She snorted. “You’re not really in a position to be making demands,” she pointed out. Then she turned and looked at the Doctor, one eyebrow raised. “Ready to finish this?” she murmured.

The Doctor caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her fingers. “I’m always ready to save the universe at your side.”

He took his place on the other side of the terminal. They each reached for a pair of rods that would demagnetise the planets and send them home where they belonged.

“Off you go, Clom,” the Doctor said. “And back home, Adipose Three.”

Rose’s fingers tingled as she pulled on her controls. “Shallacatop, Pyrovillia, and the Lost Moon of Poosh. All back where you belong.”

The power meter dipped, and Rose tossed the Doctor his sonic screwdriver. “Can you take care of that?”

He caught the tool handily, with a toothy grin on his face. “I’m on it.” He bent down and shifted a few settings on the terminal, letting them reroute power from areas of the Crucible that didn’t need it.

During the brief lull in activity, Jenny jogged over and wrapped Rose in a hug from behind. “I thought you were dead for a little bit,” she whispered.

Rose squeezed Jenny’s hands, then pulled her around to stand beside her. “But I’m here now,” she said softly.

“Yeah, about that,” Donna started. Then she stared at Rose and blinked a few times. “You’re… glowing,” she said. “I mean, never mind the rest of it—how you survived the Z-neuron energy or whatever it’s called, and how you even got here… Your skin is glowing, Rose.”

Jackie left Pete standing with Mickey and walked over to them. Rose winked at her over Donna’s shoulder, then said, “I get my youthful glow from my mum.”

Jackie snorted. “Oh, don’t even try it. There’s no beauty creme that can do that.” She took Rose’s hand and held her arm up. “You can see the light shifting, look. So, come on then—what’s this mean, you’re part you and part TARDIS?”

The Doctor straightened up from the terminal and exchanged a grin with Rose. “Well, for one thing,” the Doctor drawled as they continued sending planets back where they belonged. “You know how you and Donna are always teasing me about Rose being a better driver than I am, Jenny?”

“That’s because she is, Dad,” Jenny said frankly.

“Oi!”

Rose giggled as she sent Woman Wept back to its home system. “And this is why. I promise we’ll explain it better later when we have more time, but the short version is that I can… merge with the TARDIS.”

“My daughter is part spaceship,” Jackie said faintly.

Donna looked from the ship back to Rose, who nodded, encouraging her to continue. “And while the ship was landing, you materialised over here, just like she does.”

“Exactly!” Rose bobbed her head. “You’re brilliant, Donna.”

For once, Donna didn’t argue.  

Just as the Doctor was congratulating himself and Rose for handling that complicated explanation, Jackie narrowed her eyes at him. The Doctor stared back at her with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Well, that’s one question answered,” she said. “But I’ve got another one. How long has it been for you two, if this is my granddaughter?” She pointed to Jenny and lifted her chin in challenge.

The Doctor winced when Rose looked up at him, her eyes wide. “You told her?” she hissed.

“It just slipped out!” He pulled his rods again and sent Callufrax Minor and Jahoo back. “And Jackie, it’s not like that,” he continued. “Jenny is…”

Don’t you dare tell my mum your daughter isn’t mine! Rose ordered.

And just in time. The Doctor snapped his mouth shut when he realised exactly how that would have sounded to Jackie. “Um… it’s complicated,” he said, his voice weak.

Thankfully, Davros started talking again, interrupting any other questions Jackie might have had. “But you promised me, Dalek Caan.” He spun in his chair to look at Dalek Caan. “Why did you not foresee this?”

Dalek Caan cackled, confirming the Doctor’s suspicions. “Oh, I think he did. Because someone was there the whole time, making sure we got the information we needed. Who made sure that fortune teller on Shan Shen would target Rose, so she’d get the glimpse of the alternate timelines and dream of Mickey telling her the stars were going out?”

“This would always have happened.” Caan waved his tentacles. “I only helped, Doctor.”

“You betrayed the Daleks?” Davros asked incredulously.

Caan’s single eye glared at Davros. “I saw the Daleks,” he corrected hotly. “What we have done, throughout time and space—I saw the truth of us, Creator, and I decreed, ‘no more!’”

A shudder ran through the Doctor. He had used those words once too, to declare an end to the Time War. They’d beat a steady rhythm in his head through those final days of the war—no more.

He felt a hand slip into his, and he looked over at Rose, who’d left her side of the console to offer him this little bit of comfort.

A hatch opened in the ceiling, and Jack lifted his weapon when the Supreme Dalek slowly lowered himself into the Vault. “Heads up!” he called out.

“Davros, you have betrayed us,” the Supreme Dalek said ominously.  

“It was Dalek Caan,” Davros protested.

“The Vault will be purged. You will all be exterminated,” the Supreme Dalek said, then fired a laser bolt at the control panel, sending Donna and Jenny to the floor.  

Jack shook his head and primed his weapon. “Like I was saying, feel this!”  

He’d turned the energy blast up all the way, and the broad beam was powerful enough to blow the top off the heavily armoured Dalek.

The Doctor barely noticed Jack dispatching the Supreme Dalek. As soon as the blast had sent Jenny and Donna flying, he’d ducked around the computer terminal to check on them.

“You all right?” he asked in a low voice as he helped them to their feet.

Donna put a hand to her forehead and shook her head slowly. “Fine, Spaceman. I think I might have a bit of a headache later, though.” She gestured at the terminal. “Go on, finish up here so we can go home.”

“Easier said than done,” Rose said. “That blast destroyed the magnetron. We managed to get every planet back where it belonged first… except one. And guess which one that is.”

The Doctor turned and looked at her. “If the Earth is the only one left, we can use the TARDIS to take it home.”

Rose stood up from where she’d crouched behind the terminal, and for a moment, the Doctor thought he saw a glint of gold in her eyes. “You take care of the Earth, my Doctor. I will take care of the Daleks.”

The Doctor looked at her, then at Davros. “I’m on it,” he promised. Then he reached up into the mass of wires dangling over the computer terminal. Rose could see the plans in his mind as easily as those in her own, and she knew he was stabilising the atmospheric shell around the Earth so it would remain in place while they pulled the planet back to the solar system.

Bad Wolf looked at Davros, who was now cowering in his chair after seeing the amount of firepower Jack carried. The TARDIS had nearly lost her Thief and her Wolf to this race too many times to count. She knew this would not be the last time they were a threat, but it was time to end this round.

“The prophecy must complete,” Dalek Caan said.

Bad Wolf nodded and pulled her sonic screwdriver out of her pocket, then carefully checked the setting.

“Don’t listen to him,” Davros ordered.

At the same time, the Doctor pushed a wave of confidence and trust towards her. Do what needs to be done, Rose, he said as he jogged into the TARDIS.

Dalek Caan didn’t seem to be bothered by the Doctor’s sudden disappearance. “I have seen the end of everything Dalek, and you must make it happen, Bad Wolf.”

The sympathy Rose felt for this one Dalek brought her mind to the forefront. She nodded. “You’ll be alone,” she warned him. Well. At least until the station breaks down completely from the pressure of having a wormhole open up in the centre of it.

Dalek Caan waved a tentacle at her, and she knew he understood his fate. “I will die, Bad Wolf. And I am ready. Are you?”

In answer, Rose flipped the switch on the computer terminal that turned off the containment fields. Then she held up her sonic screwdriver and depressed the button. The air rippled at the centre of the Vault, then like a curtain on a play, it parted to reveal a shimmering wormhole.  

Davros was the first to be pulled into the wormhole. His chair skidded over the floor as he worked with his joystick frantically, trying to stay on the Crucible.

“You, Bad Wolf!” he shrieked as he reached the event horizon. “Never forget that you did this!”

Rose crossed her arms and watched as the Daleks were pulled into the wormhole one by one. She wouldn’t forget she’d done this, but she wouldn’t regret it either—not if it meant saving the Doctor and the Earth and all of reality.

A loud cracking sound warned her that the power of the wormhole was already damaging the integrity of the station, and she turned to her family. “Get into the TARDIS,” she hollered as the computer terminal caught on fire.

When everyone else faltered, too confused and overwhelmed to move, Jack pushed Donna and Jenny towards the door. “Come on, you heard the lady.” His words prodded the rest of them into motion, and less than a minute later, they were all safely on the ship.

Alone on the Crucible, Rose watched the steady stream of Daleks flowing towards the black hole. No Daleks escaped the trap. Just like what had happened at Canary Wharf, the pull was powerful enough to draw in every Dalek on every Dalek ship and from anywhere on Earth.

The Doctor came up beside her and took her hand, and together they watched in silence as the last of the Daleks was sucked through the wormhole. There was no manic energy this time, no joyful, “Pulling them all in!” Instead, they shared the quiet conviction that they’d done what had been necessary to save the universe.

The air rippled again as the wormhole closed, leaving the Vault in silence. “You must go,” Dalek Caan ordered, his voice warbling. “You must go, and I must die.”

The TARDIS knew to the second how much longer the Crucible would remain intact, which meant Rose did too. She nodded at Dalek Caan and turned to go back to the TARDIS. When the Doctor remained stationary, she paused and frowned up at him.

He squeezed her hand once, then let go. I’ll be right behind you, love, he promised. Rose nodded, then spun around and ran into the TARDIS.

The Doctor looked at the naked form of the Dalek, struggling to reconcile his ingrained hatred with his gratitude for what had just happened.

“Thank you,” he finally told the Dalek in a low voice.

The Dalek simply waved his tentacles at him. “This was what time foretold, Time Lord. Now go!”

A beam fell from the ceiling right in front of the Doctor. He stumbled back a few steps, then turned and ran for the ship. As soon as he shut the doors behind him, Rose threw the lever and took them off the Crucible, less than a minute before the explosion they both knew was coming. The time rotor started moving with a loud churning noise, and they held their breath until they felt the ship slide through the Vortex, then materialise on the other side of the Earth, safely away from the explosion.

Rose blew out a loud breath. “Well, that was cutting it a bit closer than I anticipated.”

“What exactly did you do?” Martha asked. “You just… pressed a button on your screwdriver, and suddenly a giant hole opened up in the middle of the room.”

Rose rocked back on her heels and put her hands in her pockets, and the Doctor knew he was the only one who could see the melancholy lurking behind her confidence. “We just opened a wormhole between the Crucible and the heart of a black hole.”

The Doctor sucked in a breath at the perfection of the plan, and Rose flashed him a smile before continuing.

“And we set it to lock onto their shared genetic structure—kinda like the black hole was the positive side of a magnet, and their DNA was the negative side. They couldn’t escape getting pulled in.”

Their friends stared at her, and Rose’s eyes glinted. “It’s the perfect prison,” she stated confidently. “They’ll never be able to get out of a black hole.”

The Doctor squeezed her hand. “And a perfect prison, even an endless one, is better than genocide. You found a way to remove them from reality without killing them.”

His thumb brushed against hers. I’m proud of you.

Thank you, Doctor.

Mickey shook his head. “Yeah, it’s a brilliant plan. That’s not why we’re all looking at you like you grew another head. You opened a wormhole?” he repeated.

“You heard me say Bad Wolf is part TARDIS, yeah?” Mickey nodded, and Rose raised an eyebrow. “Well, what does a TARDIS do?”

His confused frown smoothed out. “They open wormholes.”

“Anyway!” the Doctor said, before their family could bury Rose under the deluge of questions he imagined they had. “I think we still have a planet to get home, don’t we?”

“That’s right!” Sarah Jane exclaimed. “The Earth is still in the wrong part of space.”

He grinned at her and pressed a button on the terminal, calling Torchwood. “I’m on it. Torchwood Hub, this is the Doctor. Are you receiving me?”

The TARDIS monitor turned on, showing an industrial-looking room and a frightened but determined woman. “Loud and clear,” she said. “What did you do to the Daleks? One of them had almost gotten into the Hub, and then suddenly it went flying through the air and disappeared.”

The Doctor glanced up at Rose. “Let’s just say Rose sent them packing on a one-way trip.” Rose rolled her eyes at his Aladdin quote, and he giggled happily.

“Oi!”

The sharp retort came from the Welsh woman, and the Doctor felt his ears get hot. “Yes. Sorry.” She seemed awfully familiar, to both him and to Rose. “Jack, what’s her name?”

“Gwen Cooper.”

An idea tickled the edges of the Doctor’s mind. “Tell me, Gwen Cooper, are you from an old Cardiff family?”

She blinked and nodded. “Yes, all the way back to the eighteen hundreds.”

“Ah, thought so.” He looked at Rose and they shared a grin. “Spatial genetic multiplicity.”

“Oh, yeah,” Rose agreed, sharing the memory of another Gwyneth from Cardiff with him.

“Yeah, it’s a funny old world,” the Doctor said, then forced himself back on track. He’d arranged for the atmospheric shell around the Earth to hold for little bit longer, but it wouldn’t stay forever. “Now, Torchwood, I want you to open up that rift manipulator. Send all the power to me.”

A sharply dressed man stuck his head in front of the monitor. “Doing it now, sir.”

“What’s that for?” Donna asked.  

The Doctor looked up at her as he placed another call. “It’s a tow rope. Now then, Sarah, what was your son’s name?”

A bright smile crossed his old friend’s face. “Luke. He’s called Luke. And the computer’s called Mr. Smith.”

“Calling Luke and Mr. Smith. This is the Doctor. Come on, Luke. Shake a leg.” Sarah Jane had her hands clasped in front of her, and he could easily understand her anxiety.

But there was no need to worry. Luke ran into the video frame, a wide, hopeful smile on his face. “Is Mum there?”

“Oh yeah, she’s brilliant,” Rose assured him.

The Doctor enjoyed the matching smiles that lit up mother and son’s faces. Sarah Jane danced in place and cried out “Yes!” a few times as he explained what he needed to Luke.

“Yeah, we all made it out,” he told Luke. “Now, Mr. Smith, I want you to harness the rift power and loop it around the TARDIS. You got that?”

“I regret I will need remote access to TARDIS base code numerals,” the computer answered, his voice smooth and unemotional.

The Doctor straightened and raked his hand through his hair. “Oh, blimey, that’s going to take a while.”

“No, no, no,” Sarah Jane said, pushing him away from the monitor to talk to her family. “Let me. K9, out you come!

K9 teleported into the room beside Luke. “Affirmative, Mistress.”

The Doctor laughed gleefully. “Oh! Oh ho! Oh, good dog!” he praised. “K9, give Mr. Smith the base code.”

“Master.” The antenna probe in K9’s forehead extended as he rolled towards Mr. Smith. “TARDIS base code now being transferred,” he said as he pressed the probe to a port in the computer. “The process is simple.”

While everyone else was distracted by the robot dog and the activity at Sarah Jane’s house, Rose pressed her hands to the console. The Doctor watched her carefully and realised almost immediately what she was doing. The two strands of his bonds with Rose and the TARDIS separated, and the golden light pulsing under her skin flowed out of her hands and back into the TARDIS.

When Rose was alone in her body again, he wrapped an arm around her waist so no one else would notice the way she slumped. She leaned into him and took a few deep breaths, then she straightened and smiled up at him. Thank you, love.

For a moment, the Doctor got lost in the gold flecks still glittering in her eyes. The reminder of the power she could wield—the power that came most readily to keep him safe—awed and humbled him. He returned her smile. Anything for my Bad Wolf.

“We’re ready,” Luke said.

The Doctor blinked, then looked at the monitor. “All right Luke, thank you. I’m going to end the call for now. Your mum should be home in less than an hour, all right?” Luke nodded, and the Doctor turned the monitor off.

“What now, Dad?” Jenny asked.

The Doctor pushed back from the console. “Well, now we fly the Earth home.” He hustled Sarah Jane back to her earlier position and pointed at a lever. “Sarah, hold that down. Mickey, you hold that,” he added, pointing to a dial. “Because you know why this TARDIS always is always rattling about the place?”

On the other side of the console, Rose was showing Martha, Donna, and Jenny which controls they could use. Then she took the last place, one hand resting the velocity dial and the other on the dematerialisation lever. She looked up and winked at the Doctor, and he grinned back at her before finishing his rambling lesson on TARDIS flight.

“It’s designed to have six pilots, and Rose and I do it with just two. But not any more. Look at you, flying her like she’s meant to be flown.” He patted a strut. “We’ve got the Torchwood rift looped around the TARDIS by Mr. Smith, and we’re going to fly Planet Earth back home.”

Rose picked up on her cue and threw the lever. The time rotor moved slowly, with the weight of an entire planet behind the ship, but without the clunky chugging sound that usually accompanied their flight. Mickey was doing his job then with the stabiliser. That was a nonessential step in the flight manual that the Doctor simply didn’t have hands to handle, but feeling the smoothness of their flight, he was starting to think he ought to find a way.

Pete and Jackie were standing behind the jump seat, looking uncomfortable and out of place. The Doctor circled the console and smiled awkwardly at them. “No room for us at the console, though.”

Jackie stared at Rose. “That’s my daughter.”

The Doctor nodded. “Yes, it is.”

“And she’s… She just looks like she belongs here.”

Pride beat through the Doctor’s hearts as he watched Rose operate her own controls, while also helping Jenny and Donna, who stood on either side of her. He stepped forward quickly to adjust Sarah Jane’s hold on her lever, then looked back at Jackie.

“I know this isn’t the life you imagined for Rose when she was a girl, but I’ve never met anyone in a thousand years who belonged on the TARDIS as much as she does.” He rubbed his thumb over his wedding band. “I lived this life without her for centuries, and she just makes everything so much better.”

To his surprise, Jackie suddenly threw herself into his arms. “Thank you,” she whispered into his suit jacket.

The Doctor blinked at Pete over her head, then shrugged and hugged her back. He could feel Rose gaping at them from the other side of the console.

“What are you thanking me for?” he asked his mother-in-law.

Jackie pulled back and wiped her eyes.“I knew you loved Rose, but I still thought she was just your assistant. Regular Rose, I mean—when she’s not all glow-y and getting rid of Daleks. But the golden light is gone, and you’re still treating her like your partner.”  

Ah.

The Doctor shook his head. “Bad Wolf is Rose’s story, so I’ll let her explain when she’s ready. But for me…” He looked over his shoulder. Rose was leaning over Jenny’s controls, reaching for another dial. She felt him watching her, and the tongue-touched smile she gave him in reply made his hearts skip a beat. “Rose has always been my partner.”

The TARDIS hummed in his mind, and he realised they were almost to the end of the line. “Excuse me, Jackie.”

Rose already had her hand on the lever when he joined her at the console, and she arched her eyebrow when he purposely wrapped his hand around hers. The Doctor returned her smirk with one of his own.

What was it you said earlier, love? There are lots of things I can handle by myself that are more fun with your help.

Their laughter echoed around the console room as they threw the lever together, putting the Earth back right where she belonged.

[thebytchwitch]

A Family affair Interlude; The department of Mysteries

Hermione stepped off the thestral, shaking herself slightly as the sensation of flying wore off. Across from her, Harry hopped off his broom, looking wind stuck and every bit the hero he was meant to be. But still, something about this adventure left a sour feeling in her stomach and Hermione couldn’t bite back the urge to ask, “Harry, are you sure Sirius is here?” 

The dark look her best friend sent her sent a shiver down her spine, before the boy scoffed and turned, walking towards the ministry’s guest entrances with a cautious, but confident stride. Hermione faltered, closing her eyes to conjure a memory of sun dappled grass and shining blonde hair. “Cissa,” She whispered. “We’re going into the ministry. I think it’s a trap. If something happens… I love you.” Her patronus swam about her for a moment, looping through the open air before it shot off into the dark of the London night and Hermione squared her shoulders to follow her best friend once more into the dark. 

___________________________________

Narcissa hurried thought the floo, erupting into Grimmuld place in a shoder of sparks and green flames,  startling the occupants of the kitchen. It was Andromeda who approached, hands out in a sign of surrender who spoke first, “Cissa, what’s happened?” Flicking her wand to rid herself of soot and smoke, Narcissa took a deep breath.

“The children and Hermione are at the ministry.” Shooting a foul look at her cousin, she hissed, “They’ve gone under the assumption that Sirius has been captured and is being tortured. Lucius,” She spat the name like acid. “Has told me that they plan it as a trap for that stupid boy. I’m not asking you to rally Dumbledore’s silly little group but I am telling you,” Her eyes darted between her cousins, who had both risen from their seats. “Bellatrix will be there.” Narcissa said in a hard voice. “And so will Harry. And Nymphadora and Hermione. Now, come if you’d like, but don’t try and stop me because…” Patronuses wooshed out around her before Sirius hurried past her towards the fire place.

“Let's go then.” The dog-man said. “Before anything can happen that we can’t come back from.” Andromeda moved to follow him, stopping only when Narcissa caught her arm. 

“Andy.” Narcissa said softly, pulling her elder sister close. “If you go, you’ll have to fight her, family meetings aside.” Andromeda took a deep breath, shuddering slightly with the force of it and her eyes hardened. 

“Belle needs taking down a peg or two.” Andromeda said, her voice full of a forced lightness. “I was always the only one that could.” Narcissa nodded before turning to follow Sirius through the bright green flames into chaos, Andromeda hot on her heels. 

________________________________________

‘It was a trap!’ the voice in Hermione’s mind snarled. ‘We knew it and walked into it anyway!’ She threw herself to the right, casting furiously at the approaching dark Witch and trying desperately not to think of her friends. They had been on the run for what felt like hours, only getting split up once they got near the atrium. It had been an ambush and Hermione damned herself for not smelling them sooner. Logically, she knew the full moon was 28 days away but still, she couldn’t help but blame herself.

A sharp explosion, combined with the stinging pain of bits of stone tearing through her skin jerked Hermione back to the present. Chancing a quick glance around, she almost gasped in relief when she spotted the fireplaces in view. If she could just hold this psycho off and make it to one, she could call for help. The light grey light of a bone breaker hex made Hermione drop to the floor and she started belly crawling towards the nearest fireplace, trying desperately to ignore Bellatrix’ taunts.

A sharp, bright green light made Hermione roll sharply to the left as a manic cackle cut through the darkness. “Awww,” Bellatrix cooed as she advanced, swatting away stray curses like flies. “Doesn’t Cissy’s mudblood want to play with her sister in law? Aren’t you big enough to play with big bad Bella?” Her words ended in a cooing sort of baby talk that made Hermione want to vomit. Rolling over, she prepared to spring to her feet before the fireplace behind her roared to life with bright green flames. 

Sirius stumbled out first, quickly shoved aside as the enraged form of Andromeda rushed past him. 

“Bellatrix!” Andromeda roared, moving at an almost dead run towards her older sister, her wand tip crackling with uncast magic. Hermione noticed then the other floo’s crackling to life, but her attention was drawn to the duel happening behind her. 

“Why don’t you try me on for size!” Andromeda snarled, launching a volley of spells at her older sister. Bellatrix parried them, ducking into a dueling stance even as Andromeda approached. 

The duel blazed fast and furious between the two, twenty years of hurt, anger and pain forcing the power behind the spells. The force of some were enough to knock spectators off their feet. 

“You're a Black!” Andromeda screamed, catching her elder sister in the chest with a banishment spell, knocking her back ten feet and splaying her across the ground. Before Bellatrix could respond, ropes shot from the end of Andromeda’s wand, trying her sister up tight. Bellatrix writhed against her bonds even as Andromeda stepped closer. “How dare you.” Andromeda snarled. “How dare you have twisted what mother and father taught us. You’re a Black and we bow to no one! Yet you call that jumped-up half-blood MASTER!” 

With a scream of rage, Bellatrix banished the ropes binding her and the duel between the sisters resumed, burning hot and bright in its intensity. 

It was captivating, Hermione thought, watching such high caliber duelists going at it with no restraint. Her thoughts were drug away from the dueling sisters and Hermione turned in time to see Lucious casting a vicious looking orange curse at the prone form of Narcissa. 

 Before Hermione could react, the curse was blocked by the eruption of a bright silver shield, a tall blonde figure jumping between Lucious and Narcissa. “Not my Mother you pitiful arse!” Draco planted himself between his parents, drawing his wand with his free hand and turning it on his father. 

Lunging forward, Draco smashed his fist into his fathers face before wrenching the wand from his hand.  “Potter!” Draco snarled, turning to gently haul his mother to her feet by her upper arm. “Get out classmates out of here! Uncle Sirius! Grab Aunt Andromeda before she exhausts herself! Lets go!” 

Moving gently but hurrying, Draco drug Narcissa over to Hermione before dumping the older woman into her arms. Injured and exhausted, Hermione took the lead as Harry began herding their classmates towards the fireplaces and with a woosh of green flames, they were gone.

[uomo-accattivante]

(NOTE: If you want an accurate idea of the real-life spy that Oscar Isaac will be portraying in his next film, “Operation Finale,” read this. What a story! 😱)

***

For a long time, when I was growing up in the building I still live in on Manhattan’s Lower East Side, I knew one neighbor only as Peter. Tall, bronzed and muscled, Peter lived on the 13th floor. If I was riding the elevator alone with him, he always said, “Hello, how’s your mother?” in an Israeli accent after (sometimes) removing a cigarette from his mouth. When I’d see him talking with my 4-foot-10-inch mother in the lobby, her tiny hands gripping shopping bags from Gimbels, they were so different in size that they looked absurd. Mom knew Peter was an amateur artist; she had once been in his apartment to admire his work. She was an amateur artist, too, and my father teased her that she had a crush since that time she went with him to Pearl Paint on Canal Street to buy more oils.

Then in 1986, everyone in my building found out that Peter was not only an artist; he was also a Nazi hunter. It was the 25th anniversary of the trial and hanging of Adolf Eichmann, and a wave of newspaper articles accompanied a special exhibit at the Jewish Museum. Peter the elevator charmer was none other than Peter Malkin, the former Israeli spy who snatched Eichmann off an Argentine street in 1960. Eichmann, of course, was at that time the most wanted Nazi at large — an ardent believer in the Nationalist Socialist agenda, and a former architect of the Final Solution as the SS Obersturmbannführer in charge of Jewish affairs.

After the excitement those articles caused, he got a book deal. “Eichmann in My Hands” (Warner, 1990), co-written with Harry Stein, shed more light on his role in the capture of Eichmann. Here he claimed that he had been a Mossad agent for 28 years but never killed anyone. Mom wondered if I, too, wanted to read the book, but I was just post-college having fun, and the Holocaust was far off my radar. That sentiment annoyed her greatly.

I recently thought of Malkin again while writing other Lower East Side stories. I tried to find his old book on my bookshelf, but then remembered it was one of the books my husband made me give away after insisting I was a book hoarder and promising I would never miss it. I walked to Strand to see if the store had it. It did, one copy. Signed by Malkin.

I sat in a Broadway cafe with a friend who was amused by my excitement at Malkin’s scratchy signature: “Who? Should I know of him?” Now I was determined to really get to know my elevator companion whom my mother so admired. If I hadn’t appreciated him before, I would do so now.

Peter Zvi Malkin was born in 1927, in a village in Eastern Poland that had roughly 1,400 Jews before the Holocaust, nearly 70% of its population. He had a few persistent memories of that time, including a one-door, one-window heder, a tiny school.

Then, in 1933, when he was almost 5, his family moved him to Haifa, to escape rising anti-Semitism. His parents also took his brothers, Jacob, 6, and Yechiel, 17, leaving behind their eldest child, 23-year-old Fruma, a blue-eyed blonde who lived next door and was a second mother to Peter. She and her husband had three children, but her son Takele was closest to his age; the child was his daily playmate, and his best friend.

Poland in these uneasy times had an exit visa shortage, and cutting through red tape required money the family did not have. Fruma pleaded with her parents to save funds, and she promised they would reunite in the Holy Land shortly. Her parents acquiesced. In his memoir, Malkin recalled boarding a ship, and in British Mandate Palestine he entered a strange new world of foreign sounds and tastes, like oranges, dates and prickly pears. His father and his elder brother found work making bricks in Haifa — and by 1938, with news in the papers worsening, Malkin’s mother was making desperate trips to the local government department to, once and for all, get her daughter and grandchildren out.

Young Peter was a risk-taking kid, often exploring where he should not. People noticed, people talked, and soon someone at Haganah, the pre-state underground militia, heard about his exploits.

In 1941 he was selected at the tender age of 14 to join its secret ranks. Here, he got intensive training in explosives. After the final year of British rule, the group became the core of the new Israel Defense Forces — and with Malkin’s proven knack for detonating bombs, he was a sapper during the Israeli-Arab war of 1948.

A year after Israeli independence in 1948, Malkin joined the Mossad, Israel’s new Institute for Intelligence and Special Operations. Concurrently, he joined the Department of Internal Security, known as Shin Bet. He artlessly wrote on his application “I like adventure” as his main reason for applying, and despite eyebrows lifted at that answer, they offered him the job, starting at $40 a month. Safecracking and explosives were his fortes, and he trained in many more specialized skills. His cover was as an artist who traveled for inspiration, but he actually took art very seriously, having started painting at 16.

While spying, Malkin often drew stained-glass windows in churches. “I spent a lot of time in churches,” he said in one interview. “If you go to a synagogue, someone is always asking if you’re alone, if you’re married. In a church, in a hundred years no one would ask.”

At the start of 1960, Malkin was debriefed on his latest assignment, which shocked even him. He was to capture Adolf Eichmann. The new mission was called Operation Attila, and Attila was Eichmann’s code name. That May, Malkin and six other Israeli men flew to Buenos Aires, where the Mossad believed it had pinpointed Eichmann’s whereabouts. Mossad’s headquarters in Tel Aviv decided that Malkin would lead the capture, but then another agent would take over interrogation.

How had Eichmann gotten here?

After the collapse of the Third Reich, he was briefly caught, but in 1946 he had escaped from captivity in the United States and spent years hiding in Germany. In 1950, Eichmann went to Italy under the assumed name of Ricardo Klement, but only after a monk got him a Vatican refugee Red Cross passport. On July 14, 1950, he disembarked in Argentina, and for 10 years he worked in a variety of jobs in Buenos Aires. Eichmann was briefly a gaucho.

In August of 1952 he was joined by his wife, Vera Lieble, and his sons, Klaus, Horst and Dieter: The sons were instructed to refer to him as Uncle Ricardo. The Eichmanns had a fourth son while living in Argentina, Ricardo, who reminded Malkin of his lost blond playmate, his sister’s son Takele.

Lothar Hermann was almost blind, and became the unlikely source who had put the Mossad onto Eichmann. A former dissident and a Dachau camp survivor who, after Kristallnacht, left Germany for Argentina, Hermann had lost his sight, the result of severe beatings from the Gestapo. The family lived as non-Jewish Germans, and his daughter, Silvia, knew Eichmann’s eldest son, Klaus, who still used the family name Eichmann at his father’s insistence, even though Eichmann himself went under Ricardo Klement. One day, in an outdoor restaurant, Hermann and his daughter sat down at the table next to Eichmann and Klaus, and Silvia Hermann decided to make introductions. Her father may have been blind, but he had seen Eichmann when imprisoned and had heard his voice. He immediately contacted both German and Israeli authorities about this suspicious “uncle” and they sent someone to investigate in January 1958. After a quick inspection of the unimpressive middle-class Olivos neighborhood where the suspect was dwelling, the Mossad discounted the intelligence; it seemed impossible for a once lofty Nazi to be living there.

In 1960, a new Mossad team found that the man was still living in Buenos Aries, and still under the alias Ricardo Klement, but now renting an even more unimpressive suburban home on Garibaldi Street in the dreary suburb of Villa San Fernando. Hiding near a creek, the team spied on Attila, a thin man in thick black-rimmed glasses. The weather was not kind and they were often cold, as none of these crackerjack minds had realized that May was the start of winter in the Southern Hemisphere.

Through his field glasses, an agent observed a celebratory family dinner March 21 and did the math: The Klements’ anniversary celebration corresponded to what would have been the Eichmanns’ 25th, “silver” anniversary. Attila unfailingly returned home by the same bus each evening from his administrative job at a Mercedes-Benz factory; the bus arrived at his stop at around 7:20. The snoops were increasingly sure that Atilla was Eichmann, and that getting him when he was near the bus stop was the best plan of action. They decided on May 11 as the day it would all go down.

On this cold, rainy day, the green-and-yellow commuter bus pulled up on Eichmann’s stop along Route 202. Atilla did not get off. But minutes later, a little past 7:30 a.m., the next bus arrived.

Malkin wore fur-lined leather gloves so as not to have to touch the man during the scuffle. He wrote, “The thought of placing my bare hand over the mouth that had ordered the death of millions, of feeling the hot breath and saliva on my skin, filled me with an overwhelming sense of revulsion.” “Un momentito, Señor,” Malkin said, using the Spanish phrase he had practiced for this moment.

Unarmed, he grabbed Atilla’s right hand, spun the man around by the shoulders and pinned his arms behind his back. The man’s scream was piercing. Malkin pressed his hand over his mouth. Atilla’s false teeth dislodged. The leather gloves were quickly ��soaked through with his spittle.” He took him on his shoulders, and spirited his target into a waiting black Mercedes-Benz. A fellow spy drove them both to a “safe house” in a rented villa 90 minutes south, in a more upscale neighborhood in the Florencio Varela district, where there was a garden with Moorish arches, a plush carpet and a stone wall to keep out nosy neighbors. In the safe house, Atilla denied he was Eichmann even as the doctor quickly examined his mouth lest he had poison hidden on him. Then Atilla was checked for a scar of 3 centimeters beneath the left brow, two gold bridges in the upper jaw, a rib scar of one centimeter, a Secret Service tattoo, his shoe size and other markings.

“You have SS number 45526?’ Mossad interrogator Hans asked Atilla.

“No! 45326.”

The men were startled.

“Was ist deine name?” another agent named Zvi Aharoni demanded.

“Ich bin Adolf Eichmann.”

In a small bedroom, a blanket concealing the only window, Eichmann was blindfolded and manacled by his ankle, in striped pajamas. Hans worked on him to see if he knew where other prominent Nazis were hiding, including Josef Mengele.

At night the spies stayed inside in the villa. As the team whiled away the hours with chess and cigarettes, a female agent arrived to cook and clean. In the pre-PC era when he got his book deal, Malkin wrote that the men had hoped for a sexy woman to arrive and change the atmosphere. But instead they had been sent Rosa, a chunky Orthodox Jewish spy whom he knew back from Tel Aviv. Oh well, at least now they had a cook. Eichmann ate only kosher food during his 10-day stay in the safe house.

Malkin was assigned to feed and shave the prisoner, and to make sure he moved his bowels. He also oversaw his deep knee bends — Eichmann had to stay in shape to survive the trial. While Malkin sat in the room on his shift, he began to secretly draw him, using the sketch pencils, acrylic paints and makeup he carried in his disguise kit. All he had in his possession was a South American travel guide he had purchased for the trip. He used its map-covered pages for a canvas.

He had plenty of time alone with Eichmann over 10 days, and he surreptitiously began with a black-and-gray portrait overlaying a map of Argentina. On the next page, he imagined him in SS regalia. “I continued drawing in a kind of frenzy. Now I had him watching a railroad train, counting the cars; now in abstract, lying prone atop a flatcar, bearing a machine gun; now, on facing pages, appeared Hitler and Mussolini; now my parents and, in muted pastels, her eyes immense and brooding, my sister,” he wrote. The Mossad wanted Eichmann to sign a form saying he was traveling to Israel on his own accord. He would not sign for Hans, who had spoken to him so harshly. Malkin decided to give it a try, never admitting he chatted regularly with Eichmann, partly to understand the mentality that had sent millions, including 150 of his relatives, to their deaths. They spoke in broken German and a half-Yiddish that Eichmann understood well. The man who had a master file he labeled “The Final Solution” maddeningly claimed he was no anti-Semite, that he even studied Hebrew with a rabbi in Berlin. To study how to kill them better, Malkin suggested.

“I have nothing against the Jews,” Eichmann insisted. This did not sway his guard, who had lost so many relatives. “On the contrary, I love Jews.” To add insult to injury, Eichmann went on to recite the Shema: “Hear O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One…” He asked to be tried in Germany. “You must be tried in Israel,” Malkin told him. He told him that if he signed, his wife and little ones could come to the trial. (This actually happened in Ramale Prison on April 30, 1962, and Vera Eichmann’s visit was revealed only recently.)

Eichmann called Malkin by his agent code name, Maxim: “Do you dance, Maxim? Do you like music? I hope you like Viennese waltzes.”

“We found ourselves co-conspirators of a sort,” Malkin wrote. “He knew as well as I did to fall silent at the sound of approaching footsteps.”

Malkin served him a good red wine that a fellow operative had been saving for the Sabbath, and played flamenco music on an old record player in the villa. Music cheered the Nazi. Malkin toasted him. He sneaked him a Kent. More relaxed, Eichmann confided to Malkin that he had lived in fear. “For 15 years I expected what has happened to me — and it has happened.” He also admitted that he had spoken to a fortuneteller in Argentina, who told him he would not live past 57; he believed her.

Eventually, Malkin got the signature.

With so many spies in one house, Rosa and Malkin now shared the room that had two single beds. One night, he whispered to her that he was talking to their prisoner against orders. Sympathy was an uncrossable line, and Rosa was horrified, but she listened to what they had discussed. Afterward, she scolded him: “You act like you’re in love with him!” Eventually so many emotions were brought up by the capture that Malkin joined Rosa in her bed one night, and he held the woman, clothed, in his arms, crying.

The operation to commandeer Eichmann was timed close to festivities celebrating 150 years of Argentine independence from Spain, which made it possible for the Mossad to fly the first El Al plane to land in Argentina without suspicion, even though there were no scheduled flights between the two countries. The delegation was in fact an operational cover, and included Mossad and Shin Bet security service people. Operation Atilla was so top secret that the delegation leader Abba Eban, then minister of education and culture, may not have even known about Eichmann’s capture. When Eban disembarked, he gave a speech in astonishingly perfect Spanish, after strains of “Hatikvah” played. Malkin and his spy pals were at the airport to watch. They waited for word on what day the plane was leaving, which turned out to be less than 48 hours later, on May 20. When told all was a go, Malkin quickly used his makeup kit to change Eichmann’s appearance on the flight to Argentina, dressing him in an El Al uniform as a steward. Eichmann loved being in uniform again, and straightened his posture. It was not lost on Malkin that Eichmann was leaving the country with a Jewish star on his hat. “Recognize that star?” he asked him pointedly.

As they headed to the airport, Malkin’s teammate, Dr. Klein, rolled up Eichmann’s sleeve to give him an injection. Were they killing him? No, Malkin assured him, this was the day he was going to go to Jerusalem, and they needed him as mellow as possible. Eichmann was ushered on board the El Al aircraft with the forged passport for Israeli agent Zeev Zichron. Malkin had made up Eichmann up to look like the passport photo of Zichron.

Mossad agents decided it was best to tell the other passengers on board, since it was a lightly populated flight and many of those delegates who had come for the Independence Day festivities were not allowed back on and had to fend for themselves to get home. The passengers were understandably flabbergasted that they had to book alternate commercial flights. One of the men on board, however, was El Al’s chief mechanic, who fell to pieces, having lost his 6-year-old brother in the camps. Prime Minister David Ben-Gurion announced to the Knesset that Adolf Eichmann had been captured on May 23, 1960. You can imagine the hullabaloo in Israel. But there were no medals or interviews for the agents. Rather, there was absolute authority of safety rules — they were instructed to tell no one of their involvement.

In 1961, starting on April 11, Eichmann was put on a trial that would last for more than four months.

Every word of the trial was filmed to document evil that much of the world was denying. Eichmann, however, did not view himself as evil, saying famously, “Nothing is ever as bad as it appears, or one could put it another way, nothing is ever as hot as when it is cooking.” Malkin went just once to the courthouse, walked near Eichmann’s glass isolation booth, locked eyes with Eichmann and nodded. He never went back. He said he didn’t want to hear the trial.

On August 14, Eichmann was sentenced to death and found guilty on all crimes against humanity and the Jewish people.” He was hanged June 1, 1962 and his last words (in German) were: “Long live Germany. Long live Argentina. Long live Austria.” Eichmann was cremated at a secret location, and his ashes were disseminated into the Mediterranean Sea, beyond the limits of Israel’s official waters. No country would endure his grave, nor would his grave ever be a site of pilgrimage.

Malkin stayed mum on his involvement, but broke the rule once, in the spring of 1967, when his mother fell ill and he got permission to abandon an assignment in Athens. His beloved ima was dying in a Haifa hospital, 12 years after Eichmann’s ashes had been scattered. “Mama, I captured Eichmann. Fruma is avenged,” he told her. She did not answer. He repeated his claim. Gradually her eyes opened. Her hand squeezed his. “I understand,” she managed to say.

Well, there was one other time he let out the truth, the day he hailed a cab in New York City with a Mossad friend in the back seat. Malkin recognized a Polish accent. It turned out the cabbie was from the same town Malkin had fled as a young boy. He knew how Fruma was killed, and how all the others in town met their deaths. In 1941, he said, the Jews in town were rounded up near the fountain, then taken to a camp outside Lublin. The driver had survived as a slave laborer and escaped, but not before the man had witnessed Eichmann making rounds. His seatmate poked him and whispered, “Are you going to tell him?” No, he could not. He left the cab and turned back to see his friend talking to the driver, who was now looking his way, wonderstruck. The driver called out, “Is this true?” Finally, Malkin called back, “Yes!” The driver gave Malkin’s Mossad friend back the cab fare. He could not take any money — his passenger had already repaid all Jews a thousandfold. By most accounts, by this time he was already the most successful agent in Israel’s history, the Jewish James Bond. After he caught Eichmann he also nabbed Israel Baer, the Soviet mole whom the Russians had sent to Israel. Baer had claimed to be born to Austrian Jews. Malkin was rightfully proud that he clandestinely acquired a list of ex-Nazi nuclear scientists collaborating with the Egyptians. He once eavesdropped on a meeting of Arab officials by hiding under their conference table. He eventually rose to become chief of operations in the Mossad.

But he did not work for Israel only. On Malkin’s passing in 2005, Robert Morgenthau, now a renowned former Manhattan district attorney, said of my neighbor, “I think he was the outstanding intelligence agent of the 20th century.” Starting in the late 1970s, Malkin assisted Morgenthau on several investigations, including one involving CIA agents suspected of selling weapons and explosives to Africa. In addition to consultant fees, Morgenthau repaid Malkin by expediting his green card.

Not all Peter Malkin anecdotes are so heavy: I chuckled reading how he once used his expert disguise gifts on his mother before a mission; he arrived at her Sabbath dinner in Haifa, pretending he was a foreign student who showed up at her door at the request of her son. Via an unspecified spy apparatus, he changed the sound of his voice and the appearance of his mouth. For several minutes he had her convinced, but then she realized who was really sharing challah with her. “You are going to kill me!” she cried. However, further in the meal his mother guessed that he was going away on a top-secret mission. “Even a secret agent,” he said, “can’t lie to a Jewish mother.”

In the spring of 2005 I first found out that my own mother had stage IV ovarian cancer, a disease she would battle for the next two years. At the time of the diagnosis I was working on a book with her, a funny novel about the members of her retirement club, the Happiness Club, who were always complaining about their children not coming for a visit. She had taken notes on several Happiness Club members, including a Holocaust survivor named Irene Zisblatt, whom she recorded in the late 1990s for the Century Village retirement newspaper she edited, the Hawthorne Herald. She asked my brother and me to turn the newspaper article into a documentary. We were insulted that she was suggesting our next film together. Spielberg saw value where we did not, and Zisblatt’s story was included in the documentary he produced, “The Last Days,” which won an Oscar in 1998. The second it won, the phone rang — “Told you so,” my mom said.

I laughed again about that call so many years later. My mother was right about bothering to get to know your neighbors, and your duty to the future if you are a storyteller.

The other day, while my daughter did her eighth-grade homework, I rode the elevator to Malkin’s old floor and rang his doorbell. A middle-aged woman whom I have seen in the laundry room but had never spoken to answered.

I explained what I was writing. “Oh I recognize you,” she said. “You have a young daughter, right? A teen. An Australian husband?” She introduced herself for the first time: Irena Nuic-Werber. She was in real estate. She briefly asked me to wait, as she wanted permission to participate in my article by name, for normally she and her husband are very private people. Yes, her husband Daniel was quite honored. He felt it was important to help celebrate Malkin.

“When we bought [the apartment,] there was his art up to the ceiling — vibrant colors, red, yellow, orange. Many of his artworks were painted on maps. It was breathtaking,” Nuic-Werber told me. “We did not meet him, obviously, but we bought from an attorney who knew him well, who had stories. We were very touched to live here, as much of my husband’s family perished in the Holocaust.” Tears welled in her eyes. “We think of his apartment as a sacred place,” she said, “In Israel, you know, he is very famous. I wish he was more well-known in America.”

###

[wrongeddeadthenevermourned]

Scars/Other: Michael Myers

Taken from Here

HALLOWEEN (1978) 1.  Hand into car window 2.  Hand through door 3.  Sewing needle into neck 4.  Clotheshanger into left eye 5.  Stabbed in chest with knife 6.  Shot 6 times 7.  Fell off porch balcony HALLOWEEN II (1981) 8.  Hand through window 9.  Walked through glass door 10.  Shot 6 times 11.  Hand through glass 12.  Body through door 13.  Shot in eyes twice 14.  Engulfed in flames by explosion NOTE:  HALLOWEEN III (1982) is not included because Michael wasn't involved. HALLOWEEN 4: THE RETURN OF MICHAEL MYERS (1988) 15.  10-year coma 16.  Shotgun butt to left side of head 17.  Punched in face 18.  Sprayed with fire extinguisher 19.  Hand through car window 20.  Head into window 21.  Rolled off of truck onto ground 22.  Hit by truck 23.  Shot many times with varying caliber guns 24.  Fell down mineshaft HALLOWEEN 5: THE REVENGE OF MICHAEL MYERS (1989) 25.  Car crash into tree, blown up 26.  Hand through car window 27.  Body shot twice 28.  Jumped through open door 29.  Pinned to floor with chain-net 30.  Four darts in the neck 31.  Clubbed 16 times with 2X4 HALLOWEEN: THE CURSE OF MICHAEL MYERS (1995) 32.  Clobbered in back with poker 33.  Knocked down flight of stairs 34.  Poker to right wrist 35.  Shot in chest by shotgun 36.  Hand through door 37.  Stabbed with handful (5+) of syringes 38.  Clubbed 9 times with lead pipe 39.  Syringe into back 40.  15 more brutal lead pipe hits HALLOWEEN H20: TWENTY YEARS LATER (1998) 41.  3 poker hits to back, face and body 42.  Punched 3 times 43.  Clobbered with large rock 44.  Fire extinguisher to back of head 45.  Ax to left shoulder 46.  Stabbed with tip of flag 47.  Kicked in nuts 48.  Stabbed in the chest 6 times with a knife 49.  Fell off balcony onto table HALLOWEEN: RESURRECTION (2002) 50.  Crashes through door 51.  Smacked with lamp 52.  Electrocuted 53.  Hung upside down in snare 54.  Crashes through mirror 55.  Smacked with lamp 56.  Smacked with camera tripod 57.  Cutting board to chest 58.  Spice sprinkled into his eyes 59.  Smacked with rolling pin 60.  Loose Board to head 61.  Kicked twice in the head 62.  Tackled 63.  Kicked in chest 64.  Kicked in head 65.  Crashes through boarded-up window 66.  Hung by electrical cable 67.  Chainsaw to arm 68.  Chainsaw to chest 69.  Caught in explosion 70.  Smacked with a stick 71.  Electrocuted by Freddie 72.  Electrocuted multiple times when tangled in wires 73.  Burned HALLOWEEN (2007) 74.  Smacked in head 75.  Shoved 76.  Tackled 77.  Slapped three times in head 78.  Punched in head 79.  Kicked in stomach 80.  Shot in shoulder 81.  Stabbed in chest 82.  Breaks through wall 83.  Shot three times 84.  Breaks through wall 85.  Falls off second floor balcony 86.  Shot in face HALLOWEEN II (2009) 87.  Tire iron to mid-section 88.  Tire iron to back 89.  Hit with bat four times 90.  Tire iron to head 91.  Punched 92.  Piece of mask ripped off 93.  Shot to death (theatrical version) 94.  Stabbed to death (unrated director's cut)

[buckygirl-fanfiction]

Sparks Chapter 28

Pairing: Bucky POV X Reader POV ft. Other characters from the Avengers team.

Word Count: 3.8K

Summary: The perpetrators behind the attacks are finally reveals. Bucky begins to pull away after y/n’s rejection.

August 19, 2016

 10am

 Bucky’s  POV

 I saw her with him, the scientist, they were seated across from each other at a table in front of the cafe. She was looking through some papers and he was smiling down at her while she read. Is that who she chose? I can’t help but feel the sting of heartbreak. I averted my gaze and kept walking.

 6pm

 I’m on the elevator up to the lab. It’s Friday night and she wants to hang out. I agreed, even though it pains me to see her after everything that’s happened. But, she needs a friend and i’ll suffer through a little heartbreak for her. I’d suffer through anything for her. It’s painful though, when she rests her head on my shoulder, when she slips her fingers through mine, when she smiles at me. I can almost feel my heart pulse in agony.

 But, the wound is fresh… and time will heal it. One day i’ll be able to look at her again and it won’t hurt.

 I step off the elevator and walk through the mostly deserted lab. Most of the lights are off. Only the dim hallway lights illuminate my path. I see her office at the end of the corridor and through the glass doors I see him again. He pushes past the doors with a smile on his face and walks in my direction. He looks up from his phone and sees me and stops when we are close enough, “Bucky right?” he says.

 “Only my friends call me Bucky,” I say. It comes out a little meaner than i’d intended it to.

 “My mistake. y/n talks a lot about you,” he says, “Bucky this, Bucky that…” he trails off. I almost detect jealousy in his tone. I’m silent and he continues, “Well nice seeing you man,” he says and with that he leaves me standing in the corridor alone to ponder over his words.

 y/n spots me through her glass doors and waves. I see her grab her bag and she walks towards me.

 “Hey,” she says smiling. “Umm, you saw Dean. What did he say?”

 “Nothing of importance,” I say.

 “We’re not…” she trails off, “I mean, I wouldn’t do that to you.” She says with pity in her eyes.

 “You don’t owe me an explanation,” I say.

 “He just dropped off some files. He asked me to consult on a project.” She continues ignoring my last sentence.

 “Like I said. I don’t care,” It comes out harsher than i’d intended and she looks a little hurt. “I don’t mean it like that… I just mean who you date is your business.” I say trying to fix it. But, this is exactly what I was afraid of: breaking our friendship to a point where it couldn’t be mended.

 “What do you want to do?” She says trying to put a smile back on her face.

 “I don’t know,” I say, “you decide.”

 She takes my arm and I feel it again. That distinctive pang of a broken heart. She notices my stiffness and looks at me questioningly for a second, “y/n…” I say but i’m cut off by my phone ringing. I quickly slip my arm out of hers and dig in my pocket for my phone.

 “Saved by the bell,” she says looking down.

 “It’s… not like that,” I say. But it is and she knows it. Things have changed. I pick up my phone and say, “yes?”

 y/n’s POV

 I don’t know how to fix us. I wish things would go back to the way they were before. It’s been an awkward week of silences and avoidances. He’s like a million miles away and I can’t seem to bring him back and it stings. He broke us. I broke us.

 He’s talking on the phone and I lean against the wall of the corridor waiting. Hoping it’s not another excuse he can use to ditch me. When he’s done he hangs up and looks at me and sighs.

 “Come on, you might as well come with me. They’re going to need you,” he says running his hand through his hair.

 “What happened?”

 “A jet just blew up,” Bucky says.

 “A jet?” That doesn’t sound like Hydra. Have they moved into domestic terrorism now?

 The rest of the night went by in a blur of horrific images. All of which I had to actively shift through trying to find bomb remnants for the reconstruction. I finally went to sleep around 4am. I snuck into Bucky’s apartment. His bedroom door was left ajar and I peaked through the slit and saw him asleep in a pair of sweatpants. His chest was bare and his hair was wet. He must’ve just gotten out of the shower. Ordinarily I would have silently slipped under the covers next to him and fallen asleep on the bed. But, for some reason that didn’t seem fair to him. Instead I pulled the door closed and settled for the sofa. I couldn’t sleep. So many things were running through my mind. But, staying awake in this state wouldn’t be of much help. Nothing made sense anymore. I’ve been deconstructing and reconstructing bomb after bomb and i’ve been getting nowhere. But, for some reason tonight was different. I felt a faint pull, like my subconscious mind knew something my waking mind didn’t know just yet. Like a important piece of puzzle you remember seeing once but no matter how hard you look can’t seem to find. Then there was Bucky, my best friend Bucky… I felt him pulling away. Slowly and it was painful. No one wants their best friend to pull away. It’s liking losing a part of yourself, a companion, a comrade, a …

 I fell asleep to this, to these haunting thoughts and had equally haunting dreams.

 September 6, 2016

 This time it was me who was stitching him up. There was a large gash on his chest and I didn’t want to know how he got it. He’s been requesting more assignments and being more reckless. We sat in silence as I carefully pierced the suture through his flesh closing the wound. He didn’t even seem to flinch. Instead he just looked down and I wasn’t brave enough to say anything.

 September 17, 2016

 He’s gone again. Somewhere he didn’t bother to tell me. I’m sitting here in the lab wondering whether i’ve made a mistake. What if he doesn’t come back this time? He asked for too much and I couldn’t give it to him. I couldn’t bring myself to give him the power to hurt me, but somehow he already possessed it.

 I try to focus my mind and look through the reconstructions again but I can’t. I decide to call it a night and walk towards my office. The lab door clicks behind me. I look at my watch it’s around 1am. Mostly everyone else has gone home. When I get to my office I look down at my desk, which is covered in papers. I’m not usually this unorganized. But, I guess everything in my life is falling apart slowing reflecting how my feelings are also falling apart.

 I try my best to organize them, the folders. I’m piling the files into groups when I come across it, the final piece that’s been scratching at the back of my head for weeks now. It’s the file Dean gave me. The project he asked me to consult on. He’s a weapons expert and he’s working on nano explosives. Very similar to the ones i’ve been reconstructing for the last couple weeks. Why would he give me this? It seems like a blatantly obvious way to get yourself caught. I hadn’t opened the file since the morning he gave it to me. I only flipped through it, then I was distracted by the plane. It makes no sense. They were almost identical in design. Expect the plans Dean gave me were unfinished. Flawed. He couldn't seem to work out the kinks, that’s why he asked me to consult. I pick up my phone ready to call the first person that comes to mind: Bucky. But, he’s not here.

 An hour later i’m in a conference room with Agent Carter and Tony shifting through Dean’s entire project portfolio.

 “It doesn’t make sense. Why would he work for Hydra?” I ask, “Then why would he ask me to consult?”

 “What if this was never Hydra?” asks the blond woman, Sharon.

 “What?”

 “Dr. Dean Campbell weapons researcher affiliated with Stark Industries. He is working on a project currently with engineer Linda Highworth.” She says.

 “Yes, we know this Carter… What’s new?” Tony asks impatiently annoyed at being dragged back here at 2am.

 “Highworth industries just made over a 300 million dollars today in a stock market crash. The airline, the one whose plane crashed today, their stocks just plummeted. Highworth took a very risky gamble against the airline 2 days ago. October 2015, the bomb in Time square Highworth lost round about half a billion gambling on the wrong side of the market. If the bomb had gone off he would have stood to make considerably more. Specifically in government defense contracts.”

 “Linda works on government defense contracts. If she engineered domestic terrorist attacks her cooperation would have stood to make millions in panicked political funding directed towards domestic defence.” I say staring wide eyed at Carter. I knew something was off. Dirty bombs and domestic terrorism. This never screamed Hydra.

 “Your theory sounds pretty appealing until you remember Dr. Highworth is on the scientific research board here at Stark and on a handful other boards with a clearance level higher than the president.” Tony says. “His daughter may seem sketchy but his corporation is clear and free. Not only is he under security scrutiny from us, but i’m sure the NSA vets him thoroughly enough. It’s not them.” Tony says resolutely.

 “Then explain the sketchy stock market gambles,” I say challenging him.

 “Carter could probably find twenty other corporations gambling on the stock market on those same dates. It’s nothing new.” He says.

 “Exactly if he is stock manipulating using domestic terrorism then he has a entire organization behind him to make him look clear. Probably an entire organization of people just as powerful as him.” Carter says standing firm in her theory. “It’s the only explanation. Both of them would have enough clearance. It explains the security breaches. They were the moles. Linda had access to Dr. Campbell’s notes. She wouldn’t have know he consulted y/n.”

 “Explain Axelrod then, why would he be using Hydra tech to brainwash the cyborg then? None of that connects back to Highworth.” Tony says.

 “He isn’t a cyborg,” I retort angrily, “If you’re too blind to see what’s right in front of you, you might as well doom us all.”

 “I’ll put them under surveillance,” Tony says rubbing his eyes. “That’s the best I can do.”

 “Screw this,” I say. I grab my bag and head out of the room angrily. If he needed proof i’d give him proof.

 Twenty minutes later I was at her apartment. It was late, almost 3am. She lived in a doorman building. Of course she would, after all the people she’s murdered in the name of profit, were paying for it. I had to be careful. I called Sam, he was the only other person I could convince to believe me. Steve would have gone to Tony, to do this through the right channels. I need to get her to confess or I needed to lull her into a sense of security. Just long enough to find the information I needed. Sam was parked outside in a car listening to my every word through an earpiece. He was just backup. Not the backup I wanted, but the only backup I had.

The doorman eyed me curiously and let me up. The platinum blond answered the door in a pair of silk pajamas. Her sharp features stuck out through her skin. Her pointed nose and high cheekbones looked almost to be painfully sticking out of her flesh. She looked confused. She was a good actress, I have to give that to her.

 “Dr. y/l/n what are you doing here?” She says squinting her eyes. I must of disturbed her sound sleep after the hundreds she’s killed. I wonder how she can face it.

 Well, I was a good actress too, “I had to come see you.” I say in my best panicked voice.

 “Of course, come in,” she says leading me through the marble corridor towards the living room.

 She sat in silence across from me. Her apartment looked clean and spotless unlike her conscience. I dug shakily into my purse playing my role perfectly. I pulled out the file, the one Dean gave me. “You know i’m consulting on your project with Dean. The nano explosives. He gave me the file weeks ago.”

 He face betrays her for a second, “Of course I know,” she says trying to bring her steel expression back, “what about it?”

 “I don’t know if you know. But i’m also working on the reconstruction of flight 284,” I say, “the one from a couple weeks ago.”

“Yes, I heard it was terrible.” She pauses then continues, “I don’t quite see the correlation.”

 “How much do you know about the explosives used on flight 284?” I ask.

 “Not much,” she says and I almost believe her, “y/n I don’t understand why are you here?”

 “I found some similarities between your work with Dean and the explosives used on the flight,” I say.

 “OH god.” She says playing her best shocked card. “I don’t understand do you suspect someone on our team?”

 “I suspect your father,” I say playing my final card. “I looked into some of his companies financial activity and it seems correlated to a handful of other planned attacks, like flight 284. How much does he know of your work?”

 “Have you told anyone else of your suspicions?” She says alarmed and for the first time the emotion she exhibits is genuine.

 “No, I came stright away from the lab,” I say, “I had to be sure. I knew you couldn't be involved since you knew about Dean consulting me about your current project. It wouldn’t make sense for you to consult me and use the same explosives in the attack. But, your father… Did he know? Did he know you were consulting me?” I ask innocently.

 “I… I don’t think so… I… I can check. I have access to his database.” She says getting up. “Wait here i’m going to get my laptop.”

 She speedily walked out of the room. I had her right where I wanted her. Two things would happen now. If she was innocent she would return with a laptop and we’d search together for clues. If she was smart, that’s what she would do. But, she wasn’t smart. She was rattled and she would either believe I was innocently coming to her for help or that I knew the entirety of the plan and she would call my bluff. Either way she would try to kill me. Either way I had someone watching after me patiently in the sky.

 I was right. I heard the click of the gun behind me and I heard her footsteps. I slowly turned and tried to push down the smirk that was risking on my face. “Hands up,” she said. “Get on your knees.”

 “Oh… God Linda what are you doing?” I said in my best shaken up voice.

 “Who! Who else knows you’re here?” She yells as I slowly sink to my knees. I look out the window of the tall apartment building we’re in and I see a glimmer far off in the distance.

 “No… noone.” I say maintaining my character. “I don’t. I don’t understand,” I say in a shaky voice. “You knew, why would you ask Dean to consult me if you knew I was working on the reconstructions?”

 “Fucking Campbell, he’s going to have to die now too. I didn’t know that fool consulted you,” she says hissing at me holding up the silver gun and pointing it down at me.

 “It was a dangerous risk. Using explosives from your project. Someone could have caught on. You should have been more careful.” I say as a smile spreads over my face. I break my character and slowly stand up. She raises the gun as I do.

 “Get back down,” she hisses.

 “You know what I still don’t understand,” I say sitting down on the sofa and crossing my legs, “How Hydra is involved in this? Your father and you are just using terrorist attacks as a ploy to play the stock market, how many other countries are involved in this? How many other leaders? You must have a pretty solid organization. But, how is Hydra involved? Why was Axelrod involved?”

 “You think you’re smart then figure it out yourself. But be fast you don’t have a lot of time left,” she says smiling at me, “I killed your friend… and now i’m going to kill you.”

 “You really think I came here alone?” I say smiling, “I have a little birdy on my shoulder.” Right on cue I duck my head down facing away from the window. I hear glass break and a shot go off. When I turn back around I see Sam with his great big metal wings. They retract back into his harness and Linda is on the ground in a pair of cuffs, struggling against the floor. I stand up shaking off the stray shards of glass from my hair.

 September 21, 2016

 “She still won’t talk?” I ask Tony whose ego has taken a severe hit. Dr. Highworth Senior is nowhere to be found. As for his daughter she’s being detained. If there is any Hydra connection Fury wants to know about it. But, she doesn’t seem to be in as a talkative mood as she was the night I went to visit her. Bucky is back, but he’s been avoiding me. Not intentionally I don’t think. But, I feel a difference. He’s been avoiding me a lot lately in the name of his job.

 “She wants to talk to you,” Fury says from the head of the table. I haven’t seen him much. I’ve always reported to Tony before. But ever since Highworth was exposed I’ve been reporting to him.

 “She’s not going in there alone,” Bucky says walking in through the door. I turn to find him standing in the doorway. I wonder how long he’s been here.

 “I don’t care who she goes with, I just want answers…”

 Silence, that’s all i’m met with. From Bucky on the walk over to the interrogation room and from Linda when i’m inside. “You’re the one that wanted to talk.” I say narrowing my eyes at her.

 “I didn’t know you’d be bringing the soldier…” she says trailing off looking curiously at Bucky. “Your very own person lap dog I see…”

 “What do you want?” I snap.

 “We tried to turn him,” she says twisting her wrists in the cuffs that hold her. She looks different in a orange jumpsuit. Worn out and angry. “Axelrod tried to turn him. He’s the weakest link you know and it would have been very beneficial to us to have him on our side.”

 I feel a pang of pity run through me at her words. Bucky isn’t the weakest link.

 “I want a deal,” she says. “I’m sick of rotting away in here and I don’t plan on a long stay.”

 “What do you want?” I ask. Does she really think she can negotiate her way out of this?

 “I want an Island. Preferably somewhere with a stellar resort. Security and access to my accounts.”

 “You really think I’m in a position to make that happen?” I say looking back through the one way glass at Fury who's probably somewhere on the other side.

 “I’ll tell you everything I know and i’ll get your little lap dog into Spectre,” she says smiling at her reflection in the one way glass. Looking past it to the man in charge, just like I did a second ago.

 A minute later Fury is inside the room, “No games.”

 “I wouldn’t dream of it,” she says teasingly.

 “Whats Spectre?” I ask.

 “Oh the new Hydra of sorts… My grandfather was a member, you see, of Hydra. My father would have been inducted into the order as well but they died out. They’re obsolete now. Spectre is a new creation, a new organization, a smarter one, a profit oriented organization. Unlike Hydra, not a power orientated one. My father’s very own pet project. We at times have utilized Hydra’s technology, like the soldier. Axelrod thought he could turn him and then we would have someone on the inside of the all mighty Avengers. Clearly you foiled that. You foil a lot of things Dr. y/l/n. Maybe you’re the one we should have been trying to recruit.” She says. After a pause she continues, “I’m just as smart though, maybe even smarter. I want my freedom. Then, i’ll get your little lap dog into Spectre. We can call it an escape and I can say I turned him. Either way it’s a mutually beneficial plan. You’ll have a mole inside Spectre and I won’t have to sport this lovely shade of orange anymore,” she says pulling at her sleeve.

 “Clever, your plan only works if I let you go,” Fury says.

 “Your idiotic if you think we’re going to let you go,” I say interrupting Fury. “What stops you from exposing him once he is on the inside?” I ask.

 “Well, i’m not asking for much… Instead of rotting in here for the rest of my life. I’d rather be confined to a Island somewhere in the Caribbean. I have contacts inside Spectre who will believe the story: That I turned the famous Winter Soldier and once he’s on the inside i’ll lay low. As a sign of good faith i’ll even cut off all communication. Say you killed me, tracked me down, took me out, I don’t care. He’ll be in,” she says nodding her head towards Bucky, “Then you can do whatever you want with Spectre. Tear it all down for all I care. But, as a sign of good faith I want a guarantee you will leave me out of it. In my pretty little Island. I’m sure a smart man like you can figure out a plan that ends in both our mutual satisfactions,” she says aimed at Fury. “You know it’s not hard to sell, he was always the weakest link,” she says turning to Bucky.

[pikapegasus]

Can u do 80, 28, and 1 with Starlord, Gamora and Baby Groot going on a road trip?

1. “Pull over. Let me drive for a while.” // 28. “Drive safely.” // 80. “Is your seatbelt on?”

omg this one turned out super long, hope you enjoy it!!!

send me a ship + a number for a way to say “I love you”!!!

“Ha! Did’ya see that guy’s face when I hit him overth’head?” Rocket barks out a laugh, looking up at Drax. “He looked so stupid!”

“He was not expecting your attack,” Drax replies, just asjoyous.

“Oh, oh, or how about when…”

Peter tunes out Rocket and Drax’s conversation as theyreturn to the Milano. Though Rocket’s boasting tends to include exaggeratedsummaries of the events of their missions, this assignment had proven to be abig win for the team. They’d successfully apprehended some of Thanos’ goons for a bounty placed on them by the planet’s government without any major problemsor explosions (Peter is especiallygrateful for that one) in half the time they’d expected the operation to take.

“An’ now we got all this extra downtime and extra money!”Rocket yells, bringing Peter’s attention back to him and the others.

“I am Groot!” Groot cheers from his place on Rocket’s shoulder.

“We should take advantage of this,” Drax suggests. “It isnot often we finish a mission this prosperously.”

“I think we can afford to take a short break,” Gamoraagrees, looking to Peter for approval. She’s become something like asecond-in-command (or, really, honestly,his co-leader of the team) lately.

Anyway, they’ve been working a little harder than usuallately, trying to get back into the groove of things since everything with Egoand Yondu happened a couple months prior. The idea of some vacation time honestly sounds like a godsend to Peter.

“Alright, let’s take a few days, maybe three or four, tops,”Peter decides, looking at each of his friends. “I think if we stayed on theMilano or the Quadrant any longer, we’d go stir-crazy.”

“I vote we put the extra money to good use at the nearestbar,” Rocket says, lifting his paw.

“You’re going to spend your entire break at a bar?” Gamoraraises an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Not the entirebreak, maybe just a li’l part of every day,” Rocket insists.

“I am Groot!” Groot looks up at everyone hopefully.

“What the hell? No,you cannot come with us to a bar!” Rocket declares, looking at Groot indisbelief. “You’re too young!”

“A bar is not a suitable place for a child,” Drax sayssolemnly.

“I am Groot…”

“One of us will stay with you while the others go out, stopmopin’, Groot,” Rocket says.

Groot frowns.

“I’ll stay with you, Groot,” Gamora says, crouching down toRocket’s height. Groot jumps from Rocket’s shoulder to Gamora’s outreachedhand, looking up at her. “I, personally, don’t want to spend three days in arow at a bar.”

“Everyone can do whatever they want, so long as it’s legal,”Peter announces, trying to placate everyone. “The bar isn’t mandatory.”

“Suit yourself.” Rocket shrugs. “Drax?”

“I’ll accompany you, creature.”

And that settles things. Within ten minutes, Rocket and Draxexit the Milano in search of the nearest bar. Peter watches them as they leave.Gamora, with Groot sitting on her shoulder, comes to stand beside him.

“You’re not going with them?” she inquires.

“Nah,” he says. “I’m not really in a bar mood. More in arelaxing mood, y’know?”

“This planet is far too beautiful to spend all our time onit inside of a bar,” she says. Though they’ve never traveled here before,Peter’s often heard of its amazing sights, which reminded him of theNational Parks like Yosemite back on Earth.

“Yeah.” Peter sighs. “I heard there’s a nice beach only acouple hours away from here, too. If only we had…”

Gamora looks up at him in an are-you-serious way.

“Wait. We do havetime!”

“You did declaretime for a vacation for the team,” she reminds him.

“Right, right…Okay, it’s settled.” Peter nods. “Road trip,first thing tomorrow!”

As he celebrates the idea with a loud, “Wooohooo!”, Gamoralooks to Groot and asks, “What’s a road trip?”

“Please don’t kill Groot with your driving,” is Rocket’s wayof seeing them off the next morning.

“Gee, how about a ‘drive safely,’ or, ‘I’ll miss you guys,’or, ‘can’t wait until you come back,’?” Peter retorts, rolling his eyes as hefinishes packing. He slings his backpack over his shoulders.

“You’re right, I’m sorry, that was impolite of me,” Rocketsays, though Peter knows not to expect much from his tone. “What I meant wasplease feel free not to come back for a week so we can have a longer break.”

“I am Groot,” Groot insists from where he’s sitting onGamora’s bag, off to the side.

“I would not getlonely!” Rocket insists.

“I am Groot.”

“Y’know what? I take it back. Quill, please kill Groot withyour driving.”

“No one’s killing anyone with their driving,” Gamora says asshe enters the room, holding up her communication device. “I’ll have this withme so you and Drax can contact us in case anything happens.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen,” Rocket insists.

“The last time you said that, something blew up,” Petersays.

“That was onetime!” Rocket protests.

“You nearly got into a fight at the bar last night,” Draxrecalls. “You told a man his head was shaped like a fruit, and then he—“

“Ugh, fine, we’llbe good!” Rocket cuts him off. “Now just leave already, ya two love birds.”

“Gladly,” Peter says, picking up Groot, who climbs up ontohis shoulder. Gamora picks up her bag and comes to stand beside him.

“Please stay outof trouble, seriously,” shepractically begs Drax and Rocket.“And call us if anything—“

“—happens, yes, I know, I’ll let ya know if Ronan comes backfrom the flarkin’ dead to get revenge,” Rocket says, rolling his eyes. “Drivesafe, or whatever.”

“Drive safely,” Drax echoes more earnestly, placing a handon Peter’s shoulder.

“Yeah, uh, thanks,” Peter says, nodding. “We should be backin two days.”

The cars on this planet remind Peter of the ones back onEarth, but more hi-tech. Though he never learned how to drive there (hissixteenth birthday was spent very far away from Earth, after all), he’s learnedenough from his time on different planets over the years.

So after about five minutes of bickering over who has moredriving experience, which led to asking Groot to choose who should drive forthem, they’re on the road, Peter behind the wheel and Gamora in the passengerseat with Groot perched on her shoulder, mesmerized while watching the quicklypassing scenery out the window.

A new song comes on the car’s stereo from his Zune, whichPeter had managed to hook up via a cord he found lying around the Milano (thismust be what everyone on Earth uses to play music now in the car, he thinks).

Gamora looks over at him. “What’s this song?”

“’Tiny Dancer,’ Elton John, 1971,” Peter recites. “My momand I didn’t listen to it much, but it’s a pretty cool song.”

It fits their current setting, in a way. Something about thesong just fits with driving on what’s basically a freeway.

“Back on Terra, we’d drive to get everywhere,” he suddenlysays, thinking of the days spent just driving down the rural roads of Missouriwith his mom, singing along to every song on the radio. Though she’d bedriving, she often danced, too, which isn’t the safest thing to do when driving (well, technically, you shouldn’tbe doing anything else besides driving while driving, Peter figures), but theroads never had too much traffic for it to be a problem. “Everyone would learnto drive when they’re a teenager. Or, well, that part of life when you aren’tquite an adult, but you’re not a kid anymore, either.”

“Which is why you never properly learned.”

“Learn by doing, as they say.”

She smiles at that, looking out at the road in front ofthem. “I didn’t travel much as a child,” she says. “On my home planet,everything we needed was in walking distance.”

“I’m jealous,” he admits. “I’d much rather have walked toschool than take the bus every day. It was basically this really big car thatcould fit a bunch of kids, so it would pick up all the kids at different placesto take us all to school. Kids on there could really be assholes.”

“I struck fear into bullies’ hearts,” she says proudly.

He rolls his eyes. “Of course you did.”

Their conversation mainly consists of childhood memories anddiscourse on whatever song came on via his Zune’s shuffle. Some they’drecognize instantly, and brought to mind specific memories of time spent withthe Guardians, while others are judged for whether or not they’d dance to it.

(More often than not, the answer is yes.)

“I like this U2,” Gamora says after another U2 songfinishes.

“Yeah, they were just getting big around the timeYondu picked me up,” Peter says, checking over his shoulder before changinglanes. “I wonder whatever happened to them.”

She studies him for a moment. “Have you ever thought aboutreturning to Terra?”

He’s caught off guard by her question. Of course, it’dcrossed his mind more often than not over the years, especially in the timejust after Yondu first grabbed him. But, as time faded, and the grief over hismother’s death set in more permanently within him, he found himself preferringouter space.

“I used to a lot when I was a kid,” he finally answers. “Notso much anymore. It just kinda pales in comparison to other planets, y’know?”

“Even though it’s your heritage?”

Months ago, he would’ve gotten defensive over questioninglike this coming from anyone, evenGamora. But now?

He glances over at her, meeting her eyes for a moment.There’s no judgment there—after all, he actually has a home planet to go backto, while he’s well aware of the state of Gamora’s former home and lack of lifeleft on it, so it’d make sense for Gamora to envy him or just feel hostile toward him, in a way. But there’snone of that; she’s simply curious, in a way that he knows is out of her own concernfor him.

He turns his eyes back to the road ahead of them with ashrug. “It’s still my heritage, but shit happened there that just kinda spoiledit forever. I mean, maybe I’ll changemy mind and return someday, but for now…”

She nods, accepting his answer. “I’ll support you eitherway.”

Of course she will, because she’s Gamora. Peter smiles at her. “Thanks.”

She points to a place where they can exit the road ahead.“Pull over. Let me drive for a while. We should be halfway there by now.”

Following her gaze, he spots what appears to be theequivalent of a freeway exit, with a rest stop and a place to eat. “You sure? Ican keep driving, I don’t mind.”

“I am Groot,” Groot says before Gamora can reply. His eyesare on the front windshield now, rather than the passenger side window, and hepoints a finger toward the exit.

“You’re hungry?” Peter asks for confirmation. “Still don’t understand how trees get hungry…or can digest food.”

Groot nods.

“Well, guess we’re stopping either way.”

Stomachs filled, they pile back into the car, this time withGamora behind the wheel and Peter in the passenger seat. Groot settles into hisusual spot on Peter’s shoulder.

“If you get tired you can sit on my leg,” Peter remindsGroot, making eye contact with him in the side mirror. “Or the cup holder, Iguess.”

“I am Groot.”

“Okay, no cup holder then, that’s fine.”

“Is your seatbelt on?” Gamora asks absentmindedly whilebuckling in herself.

“Was that directed at me or Groot?” Peter jokes.

“Both.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He buckles in.

“Good.” She starts driving then, pulling out of the parkinglot.

“T-minus two hours until we get to our destination,” Peterannounces, plugging his Zune back in and scrolling through the songs. “Anymusic requests?”

“You pick,” she says, picking up speed as they’re back onthe freeway-road-thing.

He smirks, halting his scrolling as he comes across just theright song. He clicks on it, and as the familiar chords fill the car, Gamoraactually laughs and Peter’s convincedit’s the most precious thing he’s ever heard.

“Are you trying to tell me something with this song,Star-Lord?” she teases.

“What can I say?” he says, all too casually. “I fooledaround and fell in love, after all.”

I wanted to add in some team fam love by having rocket and drax say “drive safely” and gamora partially directing “is your seatbelt on?” to groot ;))) also, snuck in a reference to my fav band in there, heh

send me a ship + a number for a way to say “I love you”!!!!

[ibilenews]

Nigeria: Southwest caught in the throes of bomb explosions as new insecurity dimension

While the crisis of COVID-19 pandemic currently ravaging the entire world appears to have overshadowed every other thing, people in Ekiti, Lagos and Ondo States are caught in the throes of recent bomb explosions that happened on February 8, March 15 and 28, 2020 respectively. And so not many Nigerians, especially Yoruba in the Southwest zone, would easily agree with the defense put up by Governor Rotimi Akeredolu over the bomb blast in Akure, the Ondo State capital, three days ago.

The blast, which occurred in the early hours of Saturday cut off the ever-busy Akure /Owo Road and left not less than 70 structures destroyed while many people were said to be injured. Indeed, eminent Nigerians have called for concerted efforts to curb growing insecurity in Southwest, with a view to avoiding a replication of what is currently ongoing in the Northeast region. Many have repeatedly warned that activities of insurgency in the north have the potential to spread to other parts of the country.

Akeredolu had, in his explanation, said a vehicle moving improvised explosive devices to a nearby state caused the explosion. The governor, who inspected the scene of the explosion, immediately said he was briefed by security chiefs that the vehicle was in a convoy heading to a storage facility in a neighbouring state when it broke down along the Akure-Owo Road, some 2km to the Akure Airport. He noted that the unfortunate incidence happened in the process of fixing the vehicle.

But skeptics took the governor’s prompt explanation with a pinch of salt, comparing it to the recent explosion that occurred at Abule-Ado in Lagos State a fortnight ago, which also left several buildings shattered with many causalities. The worrying aspect of the Lagos disaster was the conflicting reasons advanced by the authorities for the cause of the explosion. The two bomb disasters are also compared with the earlier bomb blast in Okesha area of Ado-Ekiti, Ekiti State, close to Governor Kayode Fayemi’s office.

The Ekiti blast was said to have brought down a building around the area and that it also affected a section of the state’s ministry of chieftaincy affairs. The explosion also damaged parts of the ministry of finance, and other buildings on the premises without a soul lost. The blast in Ekiti was blamed on human error and till date nothing has been said about it again.

Meanwhile, many questions are being asked as to why explosions are suddenly becoming the order of the day in major parts of Southwest states that recently launched its separate security outfit codenamed: Operation Amotekun, which aims to tame the rising spate of insecurity and the excesses of armed herdsmen and kidnappers across the Southwest.

Interestingly, the question rages: did the explosions that occurred in Ondo and Ekiti States, whose governors – Fayemi and Akeredolu – spearheaded the Amotekun project while Lagos State, which is considered the financial backbone of the outfit, have these states as targets? While these questions are waiting for answers, there are outcries for a judicial commission of enquiry to be set up to unravel these incidences.

In his reaction, Alhaji Lateef Femi Okunnu, who also served as a Federal Commissioner for Works and Housing during the regime of former military Head of State, Gen. Yakubu Gowon (rtd), urged for a commission of enquiry to ascertain the real causes of the Abule-Ado disaster.

“It is for the state government to set up a judicial commission of enquiry into the cause, so as to put an end to all speculations and hopefully there will be an end to these explosions. Whether it was caused by those who want to steal oil or bomb or whatever, to me, it is necessary that the state government should set up a commission of enquiry.”

Some observes have, however, expressed fears that leaving the series of explosions unattended to by both the Federal Government and the states involved because of the focus on the rampaging COVID-19 pandemic might snowball into ethnic crisis in future based on the fact that accusing fingers are already being pointed at a section of the country trying to intimidate the Yoruba nation to back out of the Amotekun project.

Taking the lead discussion, a member, North East Development Commission, Wale Osun, warned that the insurgency currently facing the North East zone could happen in any part of the country. He maintained that the decision of the Southwest governors to set up Operation Amotekun, a security network for the zone, was in the interest of the nation, and not to pursue any Southwest agenda.

At a training tagged: “Engaging the Media, Social, Ethnic and Community-based organisations for reconciliation and conflict prevention,” organised by Journalists for Democratic Rights (JODER) held recently in Ikeja, Lagos, resource persons spoke at the bomb menace. Oshun said the conditionality for having sustained the insurgency in the North East is premised essentially on poverty, inequity and social class distinction, which is noticeable.

Osun also noted that the unity that would work is the type that residents deliberately worked at and appreciated that it was in their interest to be united.

The former federal lawmaker, while urging stakeholders and political leaders to address issues that lead to crisis, accused past leaders of the country of having failed to invest in what would bring more happiness to the people

Speaking further, Oshun disclosed that about 283 languages are spoken in Nigeria; saying there was the need for the country to restructure, manage the diversity and the differences in languages and cultures to its advantage being the largest Blackman’s nation.

He said: “You will admit that there are difficult moments in various parts of the country and the North East is not different from the other parts of the country. It is just that insurgency has been sustained in that area. However, there are potential for it to spread to other parts of the country.

“These factors are present in almost all the parts of the country today. It is just that it has boomeranged in the North East, just as it boomeranged at a time in parts of the South-South. And it is hoped that all efforts should be made to contain it, so that it does not spread to all the other parts of the country.

“Nigerians have a lot of work to do. If the problem is not addressed, it will create social and economic class interest. There is need to restructure the country. Nigerians need to look at what binds us together, and take advantage of our size to usher in development. Each geo-political zone should be allowed to develop their potential. What is happening (crisis) in the North East can happen in every part of the country. We need to write a new constitution that will be acceptable to every part of the country.”

ON his part, Director-General of Dawn Commission, Mr. Seye Oyeleye, noted that the current situation in the country calls for urgent attention. He added that it was the fundamentals of the socio-contractual responsibilities of the state to its citizen and one with both casual and consequential relationship with economic growth.

“The matter of security directly or indirectly affects everybody,” he stated, “one is either a criminal or victim (of theft, burglary, fraud, assault/violence, armed robbery, kidnapping and corruption); a policeman, security personnel, justice administrator, prison warder/officer or a relation, co-worker, etc, in the drama of criminality.”

Executive Director, JODER, Wale Adeoye, hinted that the event served as a platform made up of different ethnic groups, adding that the exercise had been on for some time as the essence was to build friendship among the various ethnic groups in the country.

According to him, “We don’t want a major crisis in Nigeria; all the signals are pointing to the potential of a crisis. We have seen what is going on in other African countries; we hope that this will not happen in Nigeria. The thing to prevent that is not just to fold our hands.

“We are driven by public interest. We want people on their own to be at the driving seat of the peace process. Since the project began, less violence has been recorded in areas where we have trained ethnic and socio-political leaders.

“People are not recipients of peace and conflict prevention policies; there are also critical stakeholders that should be involved in the conception and implementation of conflict resolution programmes conceived and implemented by the government.”

Representing Ijaw World Congress (IWC), Digifa Werinipre, noted that the Fulani have been living in Elele in Port Harcourt for over 200 years without any problem, noting, “What we are seeing is violence driven by vested political interests. The people on their own should come together to stop the circle of violence. Amotetkun was not created to witch-hunt anyone. We welcome the suggestions of all nationalities in the Southwest.

“Amotekun offers security and protection for people living in the Southwest irrespective of their ethnic or religious affiliations. Nigeria is Africa’s most populous country with diverse civilizations and values. With impressive large oil and gas deposits, the country’s main export earnings, Nigeria is one of the richest countries in Africa, yet trailed by constant hostilities and potential conflict.”

Deputy President, Arewa Youth Consultative Forum, Tijani Ahmed, stated the violent herdsmen do not define the Fulani history and culture, noting that Fulani are peace-loving.

“We are ready to work with other nationalities in Nigeria for peace to reign” he asserted. “What has been absent is a people-driven initiative, which JODER has now provided. People feel more comfortable working together for peace than when sitting with the government on a peace table, because the politicians define peace from the narrative of their own comfort and personal security.”

[marilynngmesalo]

Deshaun Watson throws 5 TDs as Texans beat Dolphins

Deshaun Watson throws 5 TDs as Texans beat Dolphins Deshaun Watson throws 5 TDs as Texans beat Dolphins https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

HOUSTON — This is the Deshaun Watson the Houston Texans have been waiting for all season.

Watson matched his career high with five touchdown passes to lead the Texans to their fifth straight victory, 42-23 over the Miami Dolphins on Thursday night.

The second-year quarterback has played well at times this year but hadn’t had a breakout game while dealing with rib and lung injuries over the past few weeks.

The Texans (5-3) have left their 0-3 start behind with their longest single-season winning streak since reeling off six victories in a row in 2012.

“I think we’ve got the best offence in the NFL,” receiver DeAndre Hopkins said. “What we put up tonight against a pretty good defence, what we’ve shown in these past five games that we’ve won, we’re up there with the best of the best.”

Watson threw touchdown passes of 13, 2, 73, 49 and 2 yards to give him 34 career scoring passes, moving ahead of Dan Marino (32) for second-most in NFL history after 15 games.

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“This offence can be very explosive,” Watson said. “We can do a lot of good things, put a lot of points on the board.”

Miami’s Brock Osweiler, who had one tough season in Houston after signing a $72 million contract in 2016, threw for 241 yards with an interception in his third straight start in place of injured starter Ryan Tannehill.

Kenyan Drake had a touchdown run and touchdown reception for the Dolphins (4-4). They lost for the second straight week.

“I’m fairly irritated right now,” Miami coach Adam Gase said. “I’m going to re-evaluate everything this weekend and figure out how to get better on defence, figure out how to sustain drives and get the ball into the end zone on offence.”

Rookie Jordan Thomas caught the first two touchdown passes of his career, Hopkins had 82 yards receiving and two scores, and Will Fuller added 124 yards receiving and a touchdown.

Texans running back Lamar Miller, who grew up in Miami and spent his first four seasons with the Dolphins, had 133 yards rushing and a touchdown for his second straight 100-yard game.

Houston led by eight when Watson threw a 49-yard touchdown pass to Hopkins on the first play of the fourth quarter to make it 35-20.

Watson found the speedy Fuller in front of the defence for a 73-yard touchdown that left Houston up 28-17 late in the third quarter. It was the longest touchdown pass of Watson’s career and the longest reception of Fuller’s. Fuller has caught 11 touchdown passes in 11 career games with Watson.

The Dolphins used a 41-yard field goal to cut the lead to 28-20 with less than a minute left in the third quarter. That score came after a drive featuring a crazy 46-yard pass by Osweiler . He threw the ball to Jakeem Grant, who lost it after being hit by two Texans defenders, but it sailed down the field and into the hands of DeVante Parker for the big gain.

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A 58-yard run by Miller got the Texans to the 9-yard line early in the third quarter. Houston extended the lead to 21-10 when Watson found Thomas again, this time on a 2-yard pass.

The Dolphins used some trickery later in the third quarter when Osweiler pitched a lateral to Danny Amendola, who threw a 28-yard touchdown pass to Drake to cut the lead to 21-17.

INJURIES

Houston CB Johnathan Joseph injured his ankle in the first quarter and didn’t return. … ILB Zach Cunningham left in the first quarter with a knee injury and didn’t return. … Fuller left the game after injuring his knee in the fourth quarter.

THE CATCH THAT WASN’T

Hopkins scored his second touchdown on a 2-yard reception with about eight minutes left in the fourth quarter, but his most impressive play of the night came on a catch that didn’t count . Hopkins reached back and grabbed the ball with one hand and weaved it between his legs in the air before crashing to the ground. But it was brought back after he was called for pass interference.

“I knew the guy had my other arm, so I couldn’t put my other arm to catch the ball, so I knew I had to pin it up against something just to hold onto it,” Hopkins said.

ANTHEM

Miami defensive end Robert Quinn again raised his right fist during the anthem as he has done in past weeks.

UP NEXT

Dolphins: Host the New York Jets on Nov. 4.

Texans: Visit Denver on Nov. 4.

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[mischiefandspirits]

Voltron Diaries #4 - Spoilers: We Survived!

Quick note: As this is meant to adhere to the canon plot line, there will be no shipping in this except between ships that are explicitly canon.

That said, these "videos" are meant to be edited by Pidge, who has been proven in canon to make jokes about the others being in relationships.

VoltronPals Published on Oct 30, 2029

We’re alive!!! Most of us. R.I.P Rover!!!! I, Pidge, saved the day because I’m more BA than any of these losers.

The video opened to Keith and Lance lit by soft purple light while “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” played. Keith knelt next to Lance and helped him sit up. The two stared into each other's eyes as Lance said something unheard. Lance’s eyes fluttered shut and Keith slipped his arms around him, picking the taller boy up in a bridal carry. He said something to someone unseen before walking away.

The screen went black and words began to scroll up, Pidge’s voice reading them aloud. “Warning: these people are all either professionals, geniuses, aliens, idiots, or some combination thereof. Do not try this at home.”

Once the words were gone, another caption faded into view while “He Lives In You” began.

In memory of Rover, the best stolen alien drone a girl could ask for.

October 24, 2029 - October 28, 2029

He died a hero.

The caption faded away a picture of a little pyramid shaped robot came up with the words REST IN PEACE written around it.

Slowly the music faded out and the view switched to the group minus Lance in the star room, the three youngest humans sitting while Shiro and the Alteans stood.

“Hey, everyone, sorry about the, uh, abrupt ending on the last video. We lost power so the upload cut out,” Hunk chuckled. “Good news first though, Pidge isn’t leaving!”

Pidge rolled their eyes as Hunk threw his arm around them. “Yeah, after everything that happened, I realized that this was where I was meant to be.”

“He was meant to be with us!” Hunk cheered, tugging Pidge into an actual hug. Then he yanked Keith into the hug as well. “Group hug!”

Keith gave a startled noise and froze in Hunk’s arms.

“Right, that’s enough,” Pidge said, wiggling out of the hug. “So they heard the explosion?”

Hunk loosened his grip on Keith -- who shifted so he was sitting more comfortably, but otherwise didn’t pull away -- and said, “Yeah, I think it cut out right after that.”

“It was caused by the Galra,” Shiro explained, the group falling somber. “They managed to send a bomb drone in disguised as Rover, the drone Pidge had stolen and rewired. Coran and Lance got caught in the blast.”

Coran nodded with a frown. “Lance noticed the fake just before it blew, but he only had enough time to push me out of the way so he took the brunt of it.”

“Coran was mostly okay, but Lance wasn’t looking good when we got to them. I mean, he’ll be okay now, but…” Hunk trailed off.

A picture came up of Lance wearing a bodysuit and standing in an odd capsule. His eyes were closed and his face relaxed.

“He’s in a cryo-replenisher right now,” Coran said. “His armor protected him for the most part, but he had a few burns on his face and a lot of blunt trauma, all of which the replenisher can fix up. The problem was that the explosion destroyed the crystal that powered the ship. Without that, we couldn’t help Lance.”

The video returned to the group.

“On top of that, the Galra set a fire in the Arusian’s village,” Allura sighed. “With Coran and Hunk needing to get a new crystal, Lance out of commision, and Keith and I heading down to the village to assist, the castle was left nearly undefended and open to attack. The Galra invaded, capturing Shiro in the process.”

“They had a crystal of their own and plugged it in. Which meant that by the time Keith and Allura figured out the fire was a diversion and came back, the Galra had activated the castle’s particle barrier, locking them out,” Pidge said. “Thankfully I was still inside so I was able to go Home Alone on their space cat butts!”

“You were able to what?” Allura asked.

“He just means he was able to use his superior creativity, small size, and knowledge of the territory to his advantage to take down a group of people invading his home,” Hunk explained.

“Oh.”

“You humans sure have a lot of odd phrases,” Coran hummed.

“I thought Home Alone was a movie,” Keith said, looking back at Shiro.

“It is. That’s what Pidge’s referencing.”

“Yeah, I was basically Kevin McCallister -- the main character of the movie, Keith -- but better.” A collage of photos appeared on screen. One depicted a wide shot of Pidge driving their bayard into a control panel. “I stopped them from taking off by smashing the engine controls.” Another showed a group of Galra robots being mowed down by a fuschia lightning bolt. “I fried a bunch of their robots by tricking them into shooting some energy arcs using a hologram.” A third showed Pidge flying through the air away from a robot whose arm was separated from it by a transparent wall. “Oh, and I took down some in the invisible maze.” The last was of Pidge facing off against a slim Galra.

“And didn’t you fight a guy in the turbine room?” Hunk added.

“That… that one was more Rover’s victory.”

“Oh.”

The video returned to the star room with Hunk rubbing the back of a sorrowful Pidge.

“Pidge’s little friend unfortunately died in the line of duty,” Coran said, rubbing his eyes. “He will be missed.”

Hunk nodded, pulling Pidge into another hug and Shiro stepped forwards to squeeze their shoulder. “Maybe you should take a moment outside.”

“Yeah, come on, Pidge.” Hunk stood up and carried them out, Shiro right behind him.

Meanwhile both Allura and Keith looked uncomfortable.

“It was just a Galra droid,” Allura said after a few moments, staring off where the three had disappeared. “It’s not like it had any thoughts or feelings besides it’s basic AI programming, right?”

“Of course,” Coran chirped, looking fine. “But the humans got so attached, I felt it best to humor them.”

Allura turned to Keith, who shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I’ve never understood it. Matt had this Roomba -- a robot vacuum thing -- that he swore hated him and Shiro once tried to convince me his plant could understand spoken language. He might have just been messing with me though. Or maybe he was just crashing because of finals week. Either way.”

“Either way, what?” Shiro asked as he and Hunk returned.

“Keith was telling us about your talking plant,” Coran said.

“My…” Shiro stared at the Altean for a moment before shooting Keith a look and shoving his shoulder hard enough to send him off his chair.

“Hey!”

“That was one time! I had been up for thirty-six hours straight and downed an entire pack of Red Bull, would you let it go? It’s bad enough you told Matt.”

“But you’d called it Hanako even before that and when you left for Kerberos you made me promise to talk to it when I watered it,” Keith huffed, getting up with help from Hunk.

“It’s been scientifically proven that talking to plants makes them grow better.”

“That doesn’t explain the name.”

“And what happened to Hanako, Keith?”

The boy froze, then turned to Hunk. “Hey, where’d Pidge get to?”

“Keith, what happened to her?”

“He should be here, right?”

“Did you kill my baby?”

“I’m going to go find him!”

“Keith!” Shiro yelled, chasing the boy out of the room.

“Next time choose a more resilient plant!”

“I trusted you!”

“So… that happened,” Hunk chuckled.

“You humans sure do get attached to the oddest things,” Coran hummed.

“Yeah.”

“What’s up with Shiro and Keith?” Pidge asked, coming on screen.

“Keith killed his plant.”

“Apparently it was his child?” Allura said, though it came out more like a question.

“Eh, humans are social creatures. The Garrison doesn’t allow pets so those of us living on site find other outlets. My brother had a roomba. My roomate had a toy animal. We can form pack bonds with literally anything. ”

“Clearly.”

“So should we go pull Shiro off Keith or -”

“Leave them,” Pidge cut Hunk off, dropping back into their seat. “So we heard about my adventures. What happened with you two?”

“So, the place we needed to get the new crystal from was this big living planet called a Balmera,” Hunk started.

“It’s not actually a planet. It’s an ancient animal -”

“It’s a rock animal in the shape of a planet, Coran.”

“Well, yes, I suppose that’s a simple way of putting it, but -”

“But the Balmera turned out to be under Galra control,” Hunk cut over him. “Which meant we were under attack the moment we made it into the atmosphere. Thankfully the Balmerans helped us hide. We met this nice Balmeran named Shay who took us in and helped us find the crystal we needed.”

Pidge smirked and nudged him, “A nice Balmeran?”

“Yes,” he said slowly.

“How nice?”

“Well, she and her brother helped us hide our ship and she rescued us when we got captured and even stole the crystal and hid it in our ship. She was great. That’s why we need to head out as soon as we can. She needs help.”

“Wow, so a really nice Balmeran girl, huh?”

“What are you -”

“Nice enough to take her home?”

Hunk blushed. “Wh-what? I- She’s not- She’s just a friend!”

“Sure,” Pidge drawled.

“Pidge!”

“Did you say you got captured?” Allura intervened.

“Nothing for you to worry over, princess,” Coran waved off. “It was just a minor inconvenience. We escaped rather quickly.”

“With help from Hunk’s girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend!”

“So how did you all fare? Did Pidge take down the entire invasion?” Coran asked.

“Basically.”

Allura nodded. “Pidge did much. She took down most of the Galra by the time the mice were able to turn off the particle barrier to let Keith and I in.”

“The mice!” Hunk gasped. “Have we shown them the mice yet?”

“I don’t believe so. I can go fetch them.”

The scene cut forwards. Allura sat between Pidge and Keith while Hunk stood with Shiro and Coran. Allura held up her hands to display a quartet of mice. “These are Altean Jeomzud mice. From what the paladins have told me, they’re rather similar to your earth mice, aside from coloration. The yellow one here is Platt, the pink Chuchule, the grey Plachu, and the blue is little Chulatt.”

Each of the mice gave a little bow as their name was said.

“The mice and Allura are telepathically linked, which is apparently something that can happen if you spend ten thousand years together in a super advanced cryogenic healing tube,” Pidge said, sounding doubtful.

“Yes, and because of our bond, I was able to ask the mice to shut down the barrier.”

Plachu swung their paws around like they were fighting something.

“Yes, you all did marvously against the sentry. Thank you.”

“Wait, the mice fought a robot? Please tell me I have footage of that,” Pidge said, grabbing their computer.

The video cut to a robot walking down a catwalk, columns of fuschia lightning tailing down the room on either side of the catwalk.

Suddenly Platt landed on its head.

It tried to punch the mouse, but missed and hit itself. It made a grab for him, but then Chuchule dropped down and bit its hand, causing it to start shooting at its feet. It stumbled back and the mice hopped off it as it tumbled over the railing to explode offscreen.

The video returned to the star room.

“Yep, there it is and it’s glorious,” Hunk breathed, peeking over Pidge’s shoulder.

Chulatt winked and did finger guns at Hunk.

“You have been spending too much time with Lance,” Pidge snorted.

“So the mice kicked robot butt and let you guys in. Then what happened?” Hunk asked.

“We kicked Galra butt,” Pidge said. “You know, after Lance woke up out of nowhere to blast Sendak -- the Galra commander -- in the back. Then Keith and I fought Sendak and Allura locked him up.” A picture came up of a humanoid creature covered in thick purple fur with large bat-like ears, a robotic eye, and a missing arm. He was tucked into a capsule similar to the one Lance was shown in. “We shoved him into a cryo-pod so he can’t cause any more trouble.”

“Once Hunk and Coran brought in the crystal, we put Lance in the cryo-pod to heal and started to clean up Sendak’s mess,” Hunk said.

“The crystal they used did a number on the castle’s systems,” Coran sighed. “It will take a while to go through everything. We’ve got the major systems cleaned up though so we should be ready for take off tomorrow once Lance is up and around.”

“And then we can go help Shay!”

“Girlfriend,” Pidge coughed and Hunk gave them a shove.

Chulatt’s tail curled into a heart and she batted her eyes at the camera.

Hunk sent her a betrayed look as Pidge fell off the chair laughing.

“You’ve definitely been spending too much time with Lance,” Allura giggled.

“So that’s it, right?” Keith asked.

“Seems like it. The only thing that happened after that was Pidge deciding to stay, which we already talked about,” Shiro agreed.

“Yeah, it’s obvious you guys wouldn’t survive without me,” they said from the floor.

“So until next time then?” Allura said.

“Voltron, disband!” Hunk cheered and everyone turned to him. “What? I didn’t get to say it last time.”

Replay?

[yahoo-shutdown-corner-blog]

NFL draft profile: No. 8 — Alabama LB Reuben Foster, a passionate, explosive playmaker

Alabama LB Reuben Foster 6-foot, 229 pounds

Key stat: In his four seasons, Foster went from 12 tackles to 22 to 73 to 115 in his Butkus Award-winning senior year.

Alabama LB Reuben Foster has injury and character concerns but also great football talent. (AP)

The skinny: Foster endured a rough childhood that included being in his mother’s arms at 18 months old when his father shot her. She survived the shooting, and Reuben suffered a back wound that led to some early health issues. Foster’s father was indicted and fled the law before being captured; after being imprisoned, his father escaped and was on the lam for 16 years before being found again, and the soonest he could be allowed to leave prison is 2035.

Reuben had a daughter when he was in high school — before he committed to Bama — and she’s 8 years old now. He was brought along slowly behind an insanely talented Crimson Tide LB unit and started to break out in 2015 as the part-time starting “Will” linebacker. Foster then dropped about 10-15 pounds prior to the 2016 season and started at one of the inside LB spots in the team’s 3-4 system, and his talents flourished. Now a team captain, Foster started all 15 games despite a slew of physical setbacks (cramping vs. Ole Miss, concussion vs. Arkansas and a hand injury he sustained vs. Mississippi State and re-injured vs. Chattanooga).

Foster skipped the Senior Bowl and was a medical exclusion from the testing portion of the NFL scouting combine following right rotator cuff surgery. During the combine, Foster was sent home from the event following an angry exchange with a medical staff member after he was made to wait several hours late at night at the hospital where the tests are conducted. Foster also was not healthy enough to participate in Bama’s pro day, and there have been conflicting reports about the health of his shoulder following the combine medical recheck, which he was allowed to attend mid-April. Foster reportedly failed a combine drug test with a “diluted sample,” which be blamed on drinking too many fluids following an illness.

Foster recently turned 23 years old.

Best-suited destination: We view Foster as a weakside or inside linebacker in the NFL. He played better at the lower weight as a senior, between 225 and 230 pounds, and would be best served staying in that range provided he can be protected up front by big defensive tackles and can stay healthy. Among the teams that especially could be interested in his services include the Baltimore Ravens (where his mentor, C.J. Mosley, plays), New Orleans Saints, Cincinnati Bengals, Kansas City Chiefs, Buffalo Bills, Indianapolis Colts, Oakland Raiders, New York Jets, New England Patriots, Washington Redskins and Philadelphia Eagles.

Upside: Extremely instinctive, passionate and explosive hitter and playmaker. Pops off the tape with jarring hits. Plays with a nasty demeanor and wants to set a tone early in games. Great range and mentality to finish, even when it seems he’s out of the play. Brings fast backs down from behind and the backside. Wraps up and tackles through ballcarriers. Tries to send a message with his hits. Gets low with good knee-bend and uncoils on contact. Carries himself like a 245-pounder, even at reduced weight. Works down the line and flows well. Roots through the trash and finds the ball. Can stack and shed bigger blockers. Has excellent hand work to keep blockers at bay. Few better run stoppers you’ll see than Foster.

Watch him run across the field, take a good angle and crack 210-pound USC RB Justin Davis in the season opener:

Alabama LB Reuben Foster can lay the wood, as he did here against USC. (Draftbreakdown.com)

Also much better in coverage than he’s given credit for. Can single up with tight ends in line or detached. Will track backs out of the backfield and run stride for stride with them in man coverage (see XXXX and Clemson games). Even walked out against certain slot receivers at times — kept glued to USC WR Steven Mitchell Jr., who is 5-10 and 190 pounds, in the opener. Keeps his head on a swivel in zone coverage and can switch gears on a dime. Flexible with loose hips. Can flip his hips and break on the pass in a flash. Times up blitzes nicely, even if that aspect of his game isn’t his greatest strength — still has a clear knack for it.

This is exactly how you dream them up at linebacker — Foster appears born to play the position. A true warrior on the field. Has overcome a lot of adversity off and on the field and carries a survivor’s mentality into work every day. Also has the temperament, athleticism and desire to be an impact special-teamer from Day 1 if asked to do so. Bama radio analyst and Senior Bowl director Phil Savage called Foster a “four-down player” for his ability to stop the run, defend the pass and impact the kicking game.

Downside: Small frame that might not be built for taking a long-term beating. Played with a cast on his hand last season after suffering a bone chip midseason. Has a smaller bone structure and could be susceptible to nagging injuries and nicks throughout his career. Poor tackling form — he’s a head-dropper on impact — could make Foster more prone to concussions, stingers, neck and shoulder injuries, all of which he already has suffered in college. Might not be able to disengage from blocks as easily on the next level because of the size and speed of the players he’ll be facing more consistently. Ran around blocks at times and left his lane to do so.

Hyperactive at times to a detriment. Can overrun plays and be too aggressive. Will get caught out of position in space at times and let tackle attempts slip through his hands or miss entirely. On the flip side, he can get a little unsure of himself and caught watching the paint dry in zone coverage (watch second quarter vs. Clemson). Operated behind one of the best defensive lines in recent college football the past two seasons.

Foster has found himself around distractions throughout his life and might need more maturity and guidance from a well-structured NFL team. Still growing up and might need to be mentored by a seasoned pro. He also was not asked to make defensive calls until this past season. Slow on the whiteboard breaking down plays in meetings with teams. Said to be a gradual learner of X’s and O’s. Could be challenged to completely absorb an NFL defense from soup to nuts right away.

Scouting hot take: “You might have heard me or some other [talent evaluator] use the term, ‘manage their personality’ with a player. It’s something we say, and it’s not necessarily me or anyone saying a guy is a bad person or that we’re some shrinks capable of figuring everything out about someone. But you know, you’ve worked with people who are — shall we say — ‘wired’ a certain way? Yeah, well that’s what Nick [Saban] dealt with with [Foster]. I don’t have anything on my list of things there that, by themselves, would warrant him [as a character reject], just that he was wired a certain way to where the staff had to manage him and keep a very controlled environment for him so that he did not get off track, get distracted, that sort of thing. He’s immature, right? He’s young and he’s immature, despite what [Saban might tell the media]. No arguments. What you tend to see with Bama kids who find trouble is that they tend to do so away from Bama, outside of [Tuscaloosa], so they do a pretty good job of keeping the tent over their heads, so to speak. I think [Foster] is an OK kid who needs a good, solid structure around him, and with the right team he should be fine.” — AFC assistant general manager

Player comp: NaVorro Bowman and Jonathan Vilma

Expected draft range: Top-15 pick

Previous profiles

Nos. 51-100: Here’s who just missed the cut No. 50: Indiana OG-C Dan Feeney No. 49: Iowa DB Desmond King No. 48: Vanderbilt LB Zach Cunningham No. 47: Wisconsin pass rusher T.J. Watt No. 46. Alabama pass rusher Tim Williams No. 45. Washington CB Sidney Jones No. 44. Alabama LB Ryan Anderson No. 43. Ohio State WR-RB Curtis Samuel No. 42. Florida DT Caleb Brantley No. 41. Connecticut DB Obi Melifonwu No. 40. USC CB-KR Adoree’ Jackson No. 39. Texas Tech QB Patrick Mahomes No. 38. Michigan State DL Malik McDowell No. 37: Ole Miss TE Evan Engram No. 36: Florida LB Jarrad Davis No. 35: Washington S Budda Baker No. 34: Oklahoma RB Joe Mixon No. 33: Alabama CB Marlon Humphrey No. 32: Florida CB Quincy Wilson No. 31: Tennessee RB Alvin Kamara No. 30: Michigan DB-RS Jabrill Peppers No. 29: Alabama OT Cam Robinson No. 28: Notre Dame QB DeShone Kizer No. 27: LSU CB Tre’Davious White No. 26: Missouri DE Charles Harris No. 25: UCLA pass rusher Takkarist McKinley No. 24: Michigan DE Taco Charlton No. 23: Wisconsin OT Ryan Ramczyk No. 22: Utah OT Garett Bolles No. 21: Western Kentucky OG-C Forrest Lamp No. 20: Florida State RB Dalvin Cook No. 19: Miami (Fla.) TE David Njoku No. 18: Tennessee DE Derek Barnett No. 17: Clemson QB Deshaun Watson No. 16: North Carolina QB Mitchell Trubisky No. 15: Washington WR John Ross No. 14: Clemson WR Mike Williams No. 13: Western Michigan WR Corey Davis No. 12: Temple LB Haason Reddick No. 11: Ohio State CB Gareon Conley No. 10: Alabama TE O.J. Howard No. 9: Stanford RB-WR-RS Christian McCaffrey

– – – – – – –

Eric Edholm is a writer for Shutdown Corner on Yahoo Sports. Have a tip? Email him at edholm@yahoo-inc.com or follow him on Twitter!

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